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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243113">Here, Beneath My Lungs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastboy12/pseuds/beastboy12'>beastboy12</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Big Brother Diego Hargreeves, Cussing, Gen, Hurt Diego Hargreeves, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Protective Klaus Hargreeves, Psychological Torture, Torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:13:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>45,519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastboy12/pseuds/beastboy12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After they get back from the 60's, Five starts investigating a string of suspicious murders while distancing himself from a family he's convinced he's already lost.<br/>So, naturally, Klaus and Diego join him.</p><p>  <em>"Holy shit, Five," Diego says, rushing forward. "What the hell happened to you?"<br/>Five is off-balanced by the sight of Diego. Shouldn’t he be at the other address? What is he doing here?<br/>Klaus appears on the other side of Diego and lets out a laugh that sounds almost frantic. "Oh, thank</em> God <em>you can see him, too.”</em><br/><em>“Why are you here?” Five says.</em><br/><em>Diego scoffs. “Yeah, no, the one covered in blood doesn’t get to ask questions.”</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Number Five | The Boy &amp; Diego Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy &amp; The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1172</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Everybody's Dancing and I Don't Feel the Same</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THINGS TO KNOW:<br/>This fic takes place after season 2, but AU style because the Sparrow Academy doesn't exist and Reginald Hargreeves is still dead.<br/>The title of this fic is a line from the song "Welcome Home, Son" by Radical Face. I nearly cry every time I listen to it.<br/>I'm hoping to make each chapter title a line or title of a song that I listened to while writing it. I'll mention the song/artist at the end of each chapter.</p><p>"But, beastboy, you haven't even finished your other fic yet."<br/>This is true. But the writing bug has feasted on my flesh, and I can no longer deny it, I'm sorry. My body needed this story to be written right this second.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>Everybody's Dancing and I Don't Feel the Same</h3>
<p>Five never really <em> intended </em> to search through his father’s things. He already knows what dear old Dad thought about him and his siblings - he isn’t Luther, needing physical evidence to come to terms with the cold indifference Reginald Hargreeves held toward his children.</p>
<p>He was simply . . . restless. That’s a word he’s been using to describe himself a lot recently. It’s been a week since they returned from the 60’s, and so far, everything has been fine. No looming catastrophes, no imminent threats to the world or his family, and it’s making Five itch. What is he supposed to do if <em> not </em> prevent an apocalypse?</p>
<p>His siblings have already started settling into normalcy. Vanya’s giving violin lessons again, Luther’s doing his best to clean up the mansion, Allison’s making every effort to speak to Claire, Diego’s lurking around crime scenes, and Klaus . . . to be honest, Five isn’t entirely sure what Klaus is doing, but at least the man is sober now.</p>
<p>Which is great for them - it really is.</p>
<p>It’s not like without them Five is lost.</p>
<p>It’s not like without them Five doesn’t know who he is.</p>
<p>(That’s <em> definitely </em> not true, because Five knows exactly who he is without them - it’s the version of himself he’s lived with for the past forty-five years, after all. It’s the man who assassinated hundreds of people for a corporation he couldn’t stand.)</p>
<p>Five didn’t want to admit it, least of all to himself, but when he burst through that portal, he thought he would seamlessly slip back into the chaotic fabric binding his family together. He thought, eventually, they would feel like they did all those years ago - a family. A family under a terrible, disinterested regime, but united, all the same.</p>
<p>What he didn’t know at the time was that the tapestry was already frayed thin before he came back to them. It could barely hold his siblings together, let alone fit in another wayward Hargreeves.</p>
<p>So he took the only role available to him - the outsider. It’s what he should’ve expected, anyhow. Did he think his siblings would magically bond with him over the course of three weeks? What’s three weeks in the face of seventeen years?</p>
<p>Five had to find a way to live without his siblings, without life-threatening circumstances.</p>
<p><em> That </em> is why he’s currently in the public library, hunched over a notebook he pilfered from Reginald’s study before Luther got around to cleaning it.</p>
<p>Reginald Hargreeves, while not necessarily Five’s favorite person, was, all things considered, incredibly smart and a keeper of secrets. It’s more than possible the old man knew of more than one potential apocalypse, right?</p>
<p>It’s not like that’s what Five is <em> hoping </em> for at this point.</p>
<p>He’s mostly skimming the book - this one is more like a diary than the journal documenting the siblings’ progress, despite its same detached, clinical language.</p>
<p>“I <em> knew </em> I’d find you here,” a voice exclaims from in front of him. “Well, after I checked the mansion and Griddy’s, I mean.”</p>
<p>Five reluctantly lifts his gaze up from the journal. “Klaus,” he says in a flat tone. “What do you want?”</p>
<p>Klaus scoffs. “Why do I need to <em> want </em> anything to check in on my littlest bro?”</p>
<p>“Very funny. Why are you here?”</p>
<p>Klaus pouts. “I’m being serious! I haven’t seen you in a couple days, and, I don’t know, I just wanted to make sure . . .”</p>
<p>“I was still here?” Five says dryly, unsure if the sudden ache in his chest is from his siblings believing he would abandon them so easily or from one of them caring enough to make sure he hadn’t.</p>
<p>Klaus awkwardly shifts his feet. “Well, I mean, we’re all kind of . . . worried about you.” The man rubs the back of his neck. “Luther says you pop in to grab a change of clothes every once in a while, but that’s it.”</p>
<p>Five frowns. He thought it would be obvious to his siblings that he doesn’t - can’t - fit back into their lives.</p>
<p><em> It’s misplaced sentiment, </em> Five realizes as he looks at Klaus’s wide eyes. <em> They miss the boy who left. They still don’t understand I’m not him.  </em></p>
<p>
  <em> They don’t understand he died forty-five years ago. </em>
</p>
<p>Five can never have the same relationship with his family again. <em> He’s </em> accepted that, but it appears they still haven’t.</p>
<p>“I don’t need to be <em> coddled</em>, Klaus,” Five bites out. “You realize I’m more than capable of living on my own, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Klaus holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Of course, of course! It’s just, it’s gotta be weird for you, right? Being here without anything to kill.”</p>
<p>A crude way of putting it, but he isn’t too far off the mark.</p>
<p>It’s obvious to Five that Klaus isn’t going to let him go back to reading Reginald’s journal, so he shuts the book and rises to his feet.</p>
<p>“Where are you going?” Klaus asks.</p>
<p>“Somewhere I can read in peace,” Five says bluntly.</p>
<p>Klaus blinks, then smiles. “Can I come?” The man’s bejeweled fingers tap an incessant rhythm on his thigh, like they do when he’s itching for his next fix. Maybe he’s looking for a distraction.</p>
<p><em> Or company, </em> Dolores prods from the back of Five’s mind.</p>
<p>Five huffs. “Obviously not,” he says and blinks out of the library, leaving Klaus’s crestfallen face behind.</p>
<p><em> I’m not what you need, </em> Five wishes he could explain. <em> The hole I left behind is the size of a thirteen year-old, and he’s never coming back. </em></p><hr/>
<p>Reginald’s diary is as strange and confusing as the man himself, but finally something interesting catches Five’s eye while he’s at Griddy’s. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Oct. 2, 2018 </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> I believe I’ve found one of the missing children. I, of course, was aware that more than the seven I acquired were born, but I’ve been unable to find any evidence of their existence until today. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Five has to stop reading or a second to process that. Exactly how many babies were born on October 1, 1989, with powers? Until last week, Five assumed it was just the seven of them. But Lila shared their birthday - who’s to say there weren’t more of them out there?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> There have been rumors of suspicious deaths in the city for a year - five murders, now -  but I wasn’t interested in them until I heard mention of a “strange, blue light” accompanying one of the bodies. Number One, Two, and Three’s powers do not involve any blue light, but the others’ do. I can not believe this is a coincidence. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Beneath this entry, Reginald wrote five addresses - presumably the locations of the bodies he referenced earlier. Five rips out a blank page from the back of the journal and scribbles the addresses down, then continues reading.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> If only I had waited a bit longer to send Number One to the moon. He would be exceptionally useful for this task. He never asked questions. I doubt he would have even been capable of making the connection between himself and this - </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Disgusted, Five skips to the end of the page, finding nothing new in regards to the murders.</p>
<p>There’s no mention of them in the next entry, either. Or the next one. Or the next one.</p>
<p>Five scours the rest of the diary, but the topic is never referenced again. Maybe Reginald got too distracted with orchestrating his own death to pursue it any further.</p>
<p>Either way, Five has enough information to do his own research now.</p>
<p>The Internet is only slightly helpful. He reads vague, poorly written articles mentioning a string of murders that may or may not be connected - nothing he didn’t already know. What <em> is </em> new is that the last article about these deaths was published one month ago. <em> So the person’s still here, </em> Five thinks, feeling a rush of . . . excitement? Anticipation?</p>
<p>He needs more information, and it’s clear that the only way he’ll get that is via a police report.</p>
<p>He arrives at the police station that afternoon and, after making sure there aren’t too many people watching, slips into a side alley. He’s preparing to blink inside the building when a hand latches onto his arm.</p>
<p>Without hesitation, Five jabs his fingers into his assailant’s throat, who makes a choked gurgle and falls back, releasing Five to grab at his own neck. “What . . . the hell,” Diego gasps in a strangled voice.</p>
<p>Five pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. It’s his fault, really, for not expecting Diego to be skulking in the shadows of the alley next to the police station. “Diego, what are you doing here?”</p>
<p>Having regained control of his voice, Diego crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m <em> working</em>,” he says defensively. “And that’s none - hold on, what are <em> you </em> doing here?”</p>
<p>“<em>Working</em>,” Five jeers.</p>
<p>Diego scowls. “No, seriously, what <em> are </em> you doing here? I’ve barely seen you this week, and when I finally do, it’s at the station.”</p>
<p>“It’s not any of your concern,” Five says, straightening the cuffs of his sleeves and flashing his shittiest grin at the man.</p>
<p>“You’re already wrong, because <em> everything </em> you do concerns me.”</p>
<p>“Well, that’s not <em> my </em> concern, is it?” Five says, turning away.</p>
<p>“Five,” Diego says, voice taut. “Talk to me. Let me help you.”</p>
<p>Five closes his eyes and pretends those words don’t squeeze the air out of his lungs.</p>
<p>This isn’t the Diego he left.</p>
<p>He isn’t the Five Diego remembers.</p>
<p>It’ll be less complicated, less messy, in the long run if Five makes that clear. The tapestry doesn’t include Five anymore, and if he tries to force himself in, he has a feeling the whole thing will unravel.</p>
<p>Five turns back to face Diego, a smirk already on his lips. “Actually, I <em> could </em> use your help,” he says.</p>
<p>Suspicion is just starting to manifest itself on Diego’s face when Five yells, “Somebody help! Help!”</p>
<p>Diego’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What are you doing?” he hisses.</p>
<p>“Help!” Five shouts again. The few people milling around on the street are starting to poke their heads into the alley. “A weird guy in a leather jacket is attacking me!”</p>
<p>Diego’s cry of, “You piece of -” is cut off as Five steps back in a flash of blue light at the same time the side door of the police station bursts open.</p>
<p>It’s not like Five <em> needs </em> the distraction to steal the report, but it’ll help. Probably.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Everybody's Dancing and I Want to Die" by Deaf Havana</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. In the Cold Light of Day, We're a Flame in the Wind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for the comments!<br/>Originally, this was only going to be the opening scene for the chapter, but it ended up being a lot longer than I thought it'd be, so I was like, "Welp, I guess this is the chapter now."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>In the Cold Light of Day, We're a Flame in the Wind</h3><p>Hours later, Five can make a numbered list of everything he knows about this case:</p><ol>
<li>The victims are a wide range of age, gender, and race, which indicates the killer has no preference when it comes to murder.</li>
<li>All of the victims were found - and murdered at - private locations. There was minimal risk of getting interrupted by outsiders in these places.</li>
<li>All of the victims were found tied, hand and foot, to chairs.</li>
<li>All of the victims were tortured, although the methods used and severity differed for each one.</li>
<li>All of the victims’ eyes were covered in a thin, blue sheen.</li>
<li>All of the victims’ causes of death were “undetermined.” There’s a note from the coroner which states that it seems as though all of their organs simply stopped functioning at the same time. The working theory of the police is poison.</li>
<li>There are twelve victims total, which means that since Reginald made his diary entry, the rate of murders has significantly increased.</li>
<li>If the killer continues this same pattern, there should be a new body within the week.</li>
</ol><p>Five stretches his legs out in front of the bench he’s seated on, deep in thought. The folder of dull, gruesome photos he copied from the original report laid out on his lap are in stark contrast with the light, sunny atmosphere of the park he’s in.</p><p>Upon seeing the photos of the victims, Five was first reminded of Allison’s power. That bluish glaze on their eyes is the same one that glosses the eyes of someone Allison’s just rumored. That, coupled with the fact that all of the causes of death are “undetermined,” has Five convinced it’s someone with powers like them.</p><p>This person clearly has no interest in playing superhero, however.</p><p>Two bodies drop onto the bench on either side of Five, who snaps the folder closed with an annoyed snap. “Can I <em> help </em> you?” he says.</p><p>“As a matter of fact, you <em> can</em>,” Klaus says, sounding delighted, which immediately sets Five on edge. The fact that Five used a similar line on Diego earlier today before promptly feeding him to the wolves doesn’t help matters. “By telling us what you’re working on right now - how does that sound?”</p><p>“And <em> start </em> by explaining why the hell it was necessary to have me dragged into the station and interrogated for thirty minutes,” Diego says.</p><p>Five answers Klaus first. “No.” He looks at Diego. “And it wasn’t necessary at all.” He flashes the smile his siblings have on multiple, separate occasions said looks decidedly predatory and ill-fitting on a young teen’s face.</p><p>“We thought you might say that,” Diego says at the same time Klaus nimbly snatches the folder from Five’s lap.</p><p>Frustrated with himself for letting his guard down, Five’s arm snakes out to yank the folder out of Klaus’s hand.</p><p>As though Klaus were expecting it, the medium tosses the folder over Five’s head, where Diego snags it out of the air.</p><p>The feeling has morphed beyond frustration by this point - Five’s livid. They obviously orchestrated this interaction, but since when do Diego and Klaus <em> plot </em> together? Are they that convinced he can’t take care of himself? The way they’re casually acting around him - have they forgotten they’re dealing with an assassin?</p><p>And the dark fear that wormed its way into his head - when did they stop treating him like an outsider?</p><p>He blinks behind Diego and rips the folder out of the vigilante’s hands.</p><p>It’s too late - Diego has already seen the papers inside, and his eyes are wide with recognition. “Why <em> this </em> case?” Diego says, voice as sharp as one of his knives.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” Five says at the same time Klaus says, “It has something to do with Dad.” When Five glares at the medium, Klaus grins unapologetically. “C’mon, Five, you were clearly reading one of Dad’s journals this morning.”</p><p>Diego raises an eyebrow. “Dad, huh? Now I <em> know </em> this is dangerous.”</p><p>Five seethes in quiet, simmering rage, because what right do these two bumbling morons have to team up on him? Do they not realize it’s killing him to be this close to them? It only reminds him of what he used to have, what he can never have again.</p><p>“Since when I am in need of a pair of babysitters?” Five sneers.</p><p>“This isn’t a <em> joke</em>, Five,” Diego says. “You have the file, so you should know what this guy does to his victims.” There’s something in Diego’s eyes, something far too close to concern for Five’s liking.</p><p>“Wow, it’s almost as if that’s the entire reason I stole the file!” Five says. “You know, to find out more about the case!”</p><p>“Can you take this seriously?” Diego says in a low voice, his dark eyes narrowed. “These are real people who have died. It’s a real person who killed them.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Five says, aware of the biting sarcasm still drenching his words, “and all of the people I killed weren’t real, so what could I possibly know about death or murderers?”</p><p>From the corner of his eye, he sees Klaus balk a little. They <em> forget</em>. They forget he’s not thirteen. They forget he’s a bad man.</p><p>Diego doesn’t back down. “Why are you so interested in this? It can’t just be because Dad wrote something about it - none of us ever went out of our way to help him besides Luther. I doubt that’s changed since his death.”</p><p>What is Five supposed to say? That he’s pursuing this because there’s no apocalypse? That sounds crazy even to <em> him</em>, a full-grown adult stuck in a child’s body.</p><p>He’s so focused on not letting that slip that he accidentally tells Diego the truth. “Dad thought these deaths might be linked to someone with powers like us.”</p><p>His brothers take a few moments to process those words, then Klaus moans, “Nooo, not <em> another </em> Lila.”</p><p>“What’s wrong with Lila?” Diego says instantly.</p><p>“Oh, nothing. Except for when she, I don’t know, tried<em> killing all of us</em>.”</p><p>Diego rolls his eyes. “We came out <em> fine</em>. You need to let that go.”</p><p>Klaus looks at Five, flabbergasted. “Explain to Diego that I, for once, am not the crazy one here.”</p><p>Five scowls. “Don’t drag me into this.”</p><p>“What makes you think Dad is right?” Diego says to Five.</p><p>Five growls in frustration. “Their eyes, you numbskull. Aren’t you familiar with this case?”</p><p>“Well, yeah,” Diego says, “but everyone thought it was some kind of -”</p><p>“Poison, yes, I know. But we’ve seen eyes like this before.”</p><p>Klaus’s own eyes widen. “Allison,” he says.</p><p>“<em>Fine</em>, so let’s say this killer <em> is </em> someone like us.” Diego crosses his arms over his chest. “What’s your plan then?”</p><p>Five shrugs. “Kill them?”</p><p>Diego nods curtly, like that was the answer he was looking for. “Cool, I’m in.”</p><p>Five narrows his eyes. “You’re not <em> in </em> anything, Diego.”</p><p>“That’s what she said,” Klaus murmurs quietly.</p><p>“I’m doing this <em> myself</em>,” Five says. “You’ll just screw it up somehow.”</p><p>“Well,” Diego says, rising to his feet, “the good news is that you don’t own this case, so you can’t stop me from investigating.” He looks at Klaus. “Klaus, where are we headed first?”</p><p>As Klaus removes his hand from behind his back, revealing the paper clutched in his palm, annoyance curdles in Five’s stomach. Klaus has always had sticky fingers.</p><p>Klaus squints at the paper he pilfered from Five’s folder dramatically. “It looks like the first body was found on -”</p><p>“<em>Okay</em>,” Five hisses. “I get it. You two nimrods aren’t going to let this go.” He lets out a short breath, cursing every little thing that has brought him to this situation. He doesn’t have enough faith in his brothers to think that they won’t be instantly murdered if they find the culprit on their own. “Just . . . make sure you follow me, and do everything exactly as I tell you.”</p><p>Klaus claps his hands together. “Yay, sibling bonding time!”</p><p>Diego levels a stare at the medium. “We’re hunting a serial killer.”</p><p>Klaus claps his hands together more slowly and sounds somewhat morose when he says, “Yay, serial killer sibling bonding time.”</p><p>“Also,” Diego says, “you two will definitely be following <em> my </em> lead. Is there another person with police training here to contest that? No? Great.”</p><p>Five drags a hand down his face and thinks, <em> I’m going to kill them. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Happier" by Marshmello ft. Bastille</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. When There's Nothing Left to Burn, Hear the Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lol okay so I normally don't do this, but I actually plotted this story from beginning to end. I typed everything that was going to happen and in what order and everything, and I was so proud of myself.<br/>And then I started writing this chapter and my brain was like, "OR this could happen instead" and so welp here we are, kids.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>When There's Nothing Left to Burn, Hear the Silence</h3><p>“Fiiiiiive,” Klaus says.</p><p>Five ignores him, as he has for the last thirty minutes, and continues studying the side of the abandoned house they’re at - the fifth address they’ve visited so far. If Five didn’t already regret letting his brothers join him in surveying all of the locations of the murders (he did), he certainly does now.</p><p>In Klaus’s defense, Diego hasn’t been much better. He keeps trying to give them orders, like he thinks his police background matters to Five <em> at all</em>.</p><p>“We’re going here next,” Diego says, pointing at the paper in his hand. “It’s a ten minute drive from here.”</p><p>“Fiiiiive, I’m <em> hungry</em>.”</p><p>Five has to press a fist to his forehead and let out a slow, even breath. Except the slow, even breath in practice looks more like a short, fierce huff of air. Why did he agree to this? What was he thinking?</p><p>“Klaus, it’s ten o’clock. How can you be moaning about food right now?” Diego says.</p><p>“How can you not be thinking about food? I ate, like, three hours ago!”</p><p>“You saw that waffle house we passed, didn’t you.”</p><p>“. . . No.”</p><p>“Good, because it’s too far away, and we’re not going.”</p><p>“Shut. Up,” Five says. He can’t do this anymore. It’s no longer worth it, although he has a hard time remembering when it ever was. “We’re not going to a waffle house.”</p><p>Diego smiles at Klaus’s betrayed face smugly.</p><p>“And we’re not going to the next address.”</p><p>Diego’s smile instantly vanishes. “What? Why not?” He spreads his arms out to gesture at the weeds infesting the dilapidated home’s lawn. “Sure, we haven’t found anything <em> amazing</em>, but this is helping us get a feel for where this guy likes to kill people.”</p><p>“Right, but do you know what will help <em> more</em>?” Five says. “<em>Not </em> babysitting two grown men. So I don’t care what you do, but I’m finishing this on my own.”</p><p>“That’s not what we agreed on,” Diego says firmly.</p><p>“<em>We </em> never agreed on anything. <em> I </em> let you tag along, and <em> I </em> have decided I don’t want you anymore.”</p><p>“That’s not fair!” Klaus says. “You can’t just abandon us because you’re annoyed!”</p><p>“And why the hell not?” Five says through gritted teeth.</p><p>Klaus looks at him, exasperated. “Because we’re your brothers, and that’s what brothers do. We get on each other’s nerves. That doesn’t mean you get to <em> leave </em> us.”</p><p>“Watch me,” Five says and blinks away. He knows where he needs to go, and he’ll get there faster without the additional baggage that is his family.</p><p>
  <em> That’s what brothers do. </em>
</p><p>Is it? Five can’t remember.</p><p>He blinked several blocks down the sidewalk lit by intermittent, orange street lamps, so he continues following the cracked, damp pavement into the blacker night. If Diego and Klaus try to follow him, which, knowing them, they will, they’ll assume he headed to the closest “murder location” - the nickname Klaus had fondly begun calling the addresses in the file - so Five’s walking in the opposite direction, toward a murder location a little farther away. Being around Klaus and Diego for so long has exhausted him both mentally and physically. Do people normally talk as much as Klaus does in a single day? How does it manage to be both familiar as breathing and unfamiliar as a stranger’s touch? As welcome as the sun and unwelcome as a scream?</p><p>Five’s not used to being unsure about things. He’s never been described as insecure. Even when the world is literally falling apart around him, he knows what he needs to do. He only ever allows himself to give into panic when all other available options have been exhausted (which happened exactly one time in his entire life, and it’s how he met Dolores, so he wouldn’t change it for anything).</p><p>He’s stared down the barrels of countless guns, and even more corpses, without breaking a sweat, without a twinge of anxiety.</p><p>So why does the presence of two of his family members make him so nervous?</p><p><em> It’s like you said, </em> Dolores murmurs. <em> They don’t know who you are. </em></p><p>She’s silent, then she quietly adds, <em> And you’re not sure you want them to. </em></p><p>Dolores is right, she’s always right, but it doesn’t make Five any less annoyed. He should know that he <em> doesn’t </em> want them any closer than they’ve already gotten. He should know his time with his family expired forty-five years ago.</p><p>But he had no practical reason to let Diego and Klaus accompany him. He told himself it was because they would’ve gone anyway, but that wasn’t true.</p><p>It was because he <em> wanted </em> them to join him.</p><p>He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t see the knife until it’s embedded in his thigh.</p><p>He grunts in surprise and stumbles, his head snapping to the side.</p><p>“Aww,” a male voice sighs from the shadows. “I was hoping he would scream.” A tall, lanky figure lopes into the pool of electric light, revealing a yellow grin. “I love it when they scream.”</p><p>Five’s brain is wide awake now, so he’s aware of the movement just behind him this time. He rolls away, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg, and a crowbar smashes onto the concrete where he’d stood a second ago.</p><p>“Hey, hey, hey,” the short man with the crowbar rasps in a voice that sounds like thousands of beetles crawled down his throat. “He’s a quick one, this one is.”</p><p>“She didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout him being quick,” a third, feminine voice complains. Five hears the cocking of a gun. “He won’t be so quick without a kneecap, eh?”</p><p>The tall man hums his assent. “Just don’t aim too high, remember.” Remorse colors his tone. “<em>We </em> don’t get to do the killing.”</p><p>“But we can do the hurting,” the short one croaks.</p><p>The woman laughs, high-pitched and insane. “Never as much as <em> she </em> does, though!”</p><p>The gunshot bursts through the air, paving the way for the bullet aimed straight for Five’s other leg.</p><p>But Five’s already bending space to his will, carving out a passage in the fabric of the universe that the outside world only sees as a flash of blue. He’s behind the woman now, and as he rips the knife out of his thigh, he hears her gasp. “What the hell?” she says right before Five slits her throat.</p><p>Her hot blood is still dripping off his fingers when he blinks to the short man. The man is faster than Five gave him credit for, because his frantic, wild swing with the crowbar clips the side of Five’s head. He hisses in pain, already feeling the swell of his eye, and slashes his knife horizontally through the man’s stomach. </p><p>It isn’t so much of a sensation - it’s more of an intuition, a knowledge of exactly what the tall man will do that has Five stepping to the side to avoid the knife that’s thrown at his back. It slices his bicep, and then he’s standing directly in front of the lanky man.</p><p>Crimson is dripping, staining, embracing Five.</p><p>Terror brims in the man’s eyes. “You’re <em> crazy</em>,” he whispers.</p><p>That’s when Five feels the mechanical smile stretching his lips apart, cracking the drying blood on his cheeks.</p><p>“What’s the matter?” Five says. He’s quiet, but still loud enough to be heard over the thrum of his blood, the even beat of his heart. “I thought you enjoyed screaming.”</p><p>He stabs the knife into the man’s eye.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"One for the Money" by Escape the Fate **explicit**</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Like Troubled Water Running Cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let's hear it for the people who don't know how to monitor chapter leeeeeeeeengths.<br/>(Me, in case that was unclear.)<br/>Oh my goodness though I absolutely love hearing some of your guys' theories in the comments about where this will be going. Some of you are closer than others, is all I'll say haha.<br/>Seriously, thank you for the comments. They're so niiiiiiice.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>Like Troubled Water Running Cold</h3><p>Five has a new destination in mind now, thanks to his three recently deceased friends, but he has to change his clothes first. He’s aware of the effect a supposed child drenched in blood has on people. And since he’s on his way to the academy anyway, he might as well grab something for the sting in his thigh. Every step he takes causes the wound to flare in pain, and he has difficulty seeing out of his eye, which feels like someone shoved a golf ball underneath its lid. It’s been a long enough time since the fight that the adrenaline has bled out of his system, allowing him to feel every ache and cut on his body.</p><p>But, all in all, he’s pleased. Those three were sent to him, which means he’s on the right track.</p><p>He’s making someone nervous.</p><p>The bright headlights of a car emerge over the crest of a hill. Five throws up an arm to shield his eyes from the glare, too late remembering what he looks like.</p><p>The car screeches to a halt in the middle of the empty road, and then two doors fly open.</p><p>“Holy <em> shit</em>, Five,” Diego says, rushing forward. “What the hell happened to you?”</p><p>Five is off-balanced by the sight of Diego. Shouldn’t he be at the other address? What is he doing here?</p><p>Klaus appears on the other side of Diego and lets out a laugh that sounds almost frantic. “Oh, thank <em> God </em> you can see him, too.”</p><p>“Why are you here?” Five says.</p><p>Diego scoffs. “Yeah, no, the one covered in blood doesn’t get to ask questions.”</p><p>“I’m <em> fine</em>,” Five says. “I was attacked, but this is actually good news. I have to be getting close, because why else would they come after me? <em> And </em> it means that the killer, who’s a female, I’m fairly certain, isn’t working alone.”</p><p>Five isn’t expecting whoops and hollers, but he <em> did </em> just reveal some pretty crucial information about the case, and they’re just staring at him in silence.</p><p>“Is any of the blood yours?” Diego says.</p><p>Five growls in frustration. “That’s not important - don’t you guys get it? I’m on to something.”</p><p>“Is any of it yours?” Diego repeats.</p><p>Five clicks his teeth together, annoyance welling up in every pore on his skin. “No,” he says automatically, not sure why he feels the need to lie.</p><p>Diego narrows his eyes. “I find that hard to believe, considering that shiner you’ve got.”</p><p>Five rolls his eyes and immediately regrets it when his right eye screeches in protest. “She only sent three. They didn’t know about my power.”</p><p>Klaus glances around nervously. “Uh, where are they now?”</p><p>Five looks at him and has to force the smile trying to eke his lips upward down. “I took care of them.” He glares at Diego. “<em>Why are you here</em>?”</p><p>Diego huffs a sigh. “I knew you shouldn’t be working on this alone, which <em> this </em> -” he gestures at Five’s stiffening, maroon clothes - “has proved a <em> million </em> times over, so I started driving to the closest address after you left, but Klaus convinced me to turn around. He said you wouldn’t go to the closest one.”</p><p>Klaus beams. “I know you too well, little bro.”</p><p>Those words shoot an instant thrill of terror through Five’s bloodstream for reasons he can’t pinpoint.</p><p>At least Diego believes him about the blood - and if he doesn’t, he’s at least backed off for now. As soon as they see Five take one hobbling step, though, they’ll realize he’s injured.</p><p>Which shouldn’t <em> matter </em> but for some reason it does.</p><p>“Great job,” Five says flatly. “You found me. What now?”</p><p>Diego looks at him like he’s (“You’re <em> crazy</em>”) insane. “We drive you home.”</p><p>Five doesn’t say he doesn’t have a home. He doesn’t say he spends most nights sleeping in empty storage units because his room at the academy is suffocatingly smaller than he remembers and oppressively larger than it should be. He doesn’t say the thought of having a place to go home to makes his heart ache.</p><p>He says, “I’m good.”</p><p><em> Why? </em> he wants to shriek at himself. <em> Why can’t you accept a simple ride from them? </em></p><p>Because they shouldn’t be doing nice things for him. Because if he lets them give him a ride, what more might that lead to?</p><p>“You’re a moron,” Diego says. “Get in the car.”</p><p>Diego’s carelessly authoritative tone makes Five bristle and double down on his admittedly childish decision. “Go by yourself. I’m not interested in your help.”</p><p>Diego throws his hands into the air. “Where could you <em> possibly </em> be going that doesn’t involve a change of clothes?”</p><p>Five sneers at him. “I’m going to the academy, just not with you.”</p><p>“Um,” Klaus hesitantly butts in, “no offense, Five, but do you not remember what happened the last time you weren't with us? Like, ten minutes ago? What if there’s more of them?”</p><p>“Then I will <em> deal </em> with them,” Five snaps.</p><p>“You’re being ridiculous,” Diego says.</p><p>Five is fully aware of that, but he’s come too far to back off now.</p><p>Diego reaches out to grab Five’s arm, and Five instinctively steps back. He tries to disguise the buckling of his knee, but he catches Diego’s sharp glance downward and knows the stagger hasn’t passed by unnoticed. </p><p>“You <em> are </em> hurt,” Diego says, but instead of the smug tone Five expected, Diego’s voice is quiet anger. “Why didn’t you say anything?”</p><p>“Because it’s not important,” Five says, although he himself is still unsure as to why he lied.</p><p>
  <em> Because you shouldn’t care. </em>
</p><p>He must have said that out loud, because Klaus frowns at him. “Of course we care,” he says, strangely gentle. “What kind of family would we be if we didn’t?”</p><p><em> I don’t know, maybe one that hasn’t seen me for seventeen years? </em> Five thinks, disregarding the sudden tightness of his throat.</p><p>“We’re going home.” Diego’s tone brooks no argument. “We’re fixing you up, and you’re changing your clothes. I’d ask if that sounds good, but I don’t actually<em> care </em> if you think that sounds good, because we’re doing it anyway.”</p><p>Five forces himself to ignore his instinct to do the exact opposite of anything said by someone who wrongly thinks he’s in charge and consider this logically. The academy is probably a fifteen minute drive from here, and a much longer walk, even considering his blinks. It would be stupid to refuse the ride.</p><p>Then why is it so hard to let it happen?</p><p>Maybe it’s the way Klaus is looking at him, like the medium is afraid for him. Five is used to people being afraid <em> of </em> him - he takes immense pride in that - but never <em> for </em>him. </p><p>Diego’s still looking at him expectantly.</p><p>“Fine,” Five says. <em> It’s practical, that’s all. </em></p><p>Klaus’s expression crumples in relief. He opens his mouth to say something, but Diego shoots him a glare Five can’t decipher the intent of, and Klaus snaps his jaw shut.</p><p>Diego swings into the driver’s seat, and Five climbs into the back. It shouldn’t be a big deal, it <em> really </em> shouldn’t, but now he’s in an enclosed space with two family members whose sole focus is him.</p><p>Once Klaus is buckled in, Diego starts the car. “So,” he says conversationally, which Five instantly hates, “there were three guys?”</p><p>“Yes,” Five says suspiciously, wondering where the vigilante is going with this.</p><p>“Cool, cool,” Diego says. “And do you normally have trouble killing three people at a time?”</p><p>Five squints at the back of Diego’s head. “Not really, no.”</p><p>Diego stops the car. “Klaus, I just remembered, didn’t you say you needed to do something?”</p><p>Klaus looks confused. “I don’t -”</p><p>“<em>At this exact moment</em>?” Diego says, looking directly at the medium.</p><p>“Oh,” Klaus says after a significant pause. “Yeah, um, there was that one thing.” He uses one finger to scratch his neck. “Er, how was I planning on getting to the academy, again?”</p><p>“The bus,” Diego says.</p><p>Klaus glances from Diego to Five. “Ah, yes, right, makes sense.” He slowly opens his door. “See you in . . . a bit?”</p><p>“Yes,” Diego says. “A bit.”</p><p>Five rolls his eyes. Is he looking forward to a car ride where Diego interrogates him the whole time? No, but it will be better than whatever charade he just witnessed was. If Diego wanted to talk to Five alone, he could've just said so.</p><p>Diego begins driving again, leaving a mournful-looking Klaus behind. After several minutes of silence, Diego asks, “What weapons did they have?” </p><p>“Knife, crowbar, gun,” Five lists.</p><p>“How did the fight start?”</p><p>“One of them threw a knife at me.” Five sighs. “What does it matter? They’re dead; I’m not.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t know about you, but <em> I’d </em> like to avoid this happening to you again.”</p><p>Five’s chest compresses, and he has to look away from whatever emotion Diego just displayed is. “Why?” he bites out.</p><p>He can feel Diego’s eyes on him. “Do you seriously not know?” the vigilante says.</p><p>Luckily, they just pulled up to the academy, so Five rips his door open and blinks into the building, away from the implication behind those words. He blinks into the dining room, directly in front of Luther and Allison, who look like they’re in the middle of an intense, quiet discussion.</p><p>Luther lets out a startled yelp. “Five! You have <em> got </em> to stop doing that.”</p><p>Allison, whose hand leapt to her heart at Five’s appearance, looks at Five in concern. “Is that . . . blood?”</p><p>Shit. Now he has two <em> more </em> siblings to deal with.</p><p>Luther’s on his feet in an instant. “Are you okay?” His voice turns cold enough to burn. “Who did this?” </p><p>“No one that matters anymore,” Five says, flashing a smirk he doesn’t quite feel. They assume he can’t take care of the problem himself. When will they learn that Five is perfectly independent? “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to change.”</p><p>“Are you hurt?” Allison says.</p><p>“Yes,” Diego answers from the doorway.</p><p>“Diego, what happened?” Luther demands.</p><p>Diego heaves a sigh. “I wish I could tell you. He was alone for <em> literally </em>ten minutes.”</p><p>“Five -” Allison begins, but Five is blinking to his room before she can finish. His siblings make everything so much more complicated than it needs to be. There was a threat, and Five eliminated it. What more do they need to know?</p><p>First, Five needs to do something about the wound on his thigh. He takes off his pants and, using the various medical supplies he always has nearby, stitches the cut closed. He doesn’t exactly enjoy stitching himself up, but it’s soothing to watch an open wound slowly being bound together.</p><p>Once you get past the pain, of course.</p><p>The cut on his arm merits little more than a band-aid, and there isn’t much he can do for his swollen eye other than ice it, so he hops in the shower. Showering wasn’t in his initial plan, but seeing locks of his dark hair matted with even darker, congealing blood is unappealing. </p><p>He’s sure it has nothing to do with the fact that the smeared blood on his face reminds him of the grin pulling his lips apart as he killed them.</p><p>He showers but somehow feels no cleaner than he was before, then dresses himself in fresh clothes. It’s late, but for where Five is heading, that doesn’t matter.</p><p>Someone knocks hesitantly at his door. Suppressing the wave of frustration, Five opens it.</p><p>Allison gives him a once-over, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “Oh, good. You look much less like . . .” </p><p>“A killer?” Five says.</p><p>“A corpse,” she says. “Can I come in?”</p><p>Five releases a breath of air, glancing at the clock on the wall. His destination won’t be closing any time soon, so he reluctantly supposes he can afford to waste a little more time. “Sure.”</p><p>She walks in, her eyes scanning every inch of his room, making him feel strangely self-conscious. “It’s so weird,” she confesses. “It looks just like it did when you left.”</p><p>Five disagrees. It seems dingier, dustier. More ominous, somehow.</p><p>Her gaze falls on his perfectly made bed, and her eyes narrow. “Where have you been sleeping?”</p><p>Five crosses his arms over his chest and ignores the question. “What do you want, Allison?”</p><p>Allison perches on the edge of the bed and looks at him seriously. “I’m worried about you, Five,” she says bluntly.</p><p>“Get in line,” he says. “Despite the fact that I am <em> clearly </em> capable of taking care of myself.”</p><p>“It’s not just . . . that,” she says, gesturing to his swollen eye. “I’ve barely seen you since we got back from the past. What have you been doing?”</p><p>Five simply stares for a moment, because he doesn’t know. What has he been doing this whole time? “Nothing,” he finally says.</p><p>Allison sighs, seeming to understand that Five has said as much as he wants to, and stands. “Do me a favor and remember that we’re here for you, okay?” She crosses the room to leave, and as she passes him, her hand lifts and hovers in the air for a second before dropping back to her side. A brief, sad smile ghosts over her lips. “We’re family.”</p><p><em> What does that </em> mean<em>? </em> Five almost asks her retreating form. <em> I don’t know anymore. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Before You Go," by Lewis Capaldi</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. My Sense of Wonder Is Just a Little Tired</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH, THANK YOU FOR COMMENTING AND READIIIIING.<br/>In other news, we're building up to some spicy bits.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>My Sense of Wonder Is Just a Little Tired</h3><p>Five reaches the foyer at the same time Klaus opens the front door. The medium sees Five and stops. He stares for a second, a strange expression on his face.</p><p>“. . . Yes?” Five eventually says.</p><p>Klaus blinks, as though just waking up. “What? Yeah, hi.”</p><p>Klaus is acting weird, but he’s always weird, so Five moves to walk past him, but then the medium clears his throat. “I, uh . . . so I was walking, and I may have . . . well, I came across three bodies -”</p><p>Anger roils and twists in Five’s chest, along with a hint of fear. Diego didn’t tell Klaus to get out of the car to be alone with Five - he wanted Klaus to find the bodies.</p><p>“And?” Five says, a little more viciously than he intended. “What about them?”</p><p>Klaus looks ill. “I was just wondering, I guess, if that guy’s eyes were cut out before they attacked you, or . . .”</p><p>The anger fizzles into bleak dismay. He wants his siblings to understand he’s not the same person who left them, but not like this. Not to this extent.</p><p>If Five had been thinking properly, if he’d been thinking at <em> all</em>, he would’ve kept the third man alive to interrogate him. But in the middle of a fight, in the heat of battle, when warm blood sprays on your face, when warm blood makes your hands slippery enough to lose your grip on reality, <em> thinking </em> becomes obsolete. You do or you die.</p><p>And Five sometimes gets carried away by the “do” part.</p><p>Diego strides into the foyer at that exact moment. He looks from Klaus’s green-tinted face to Five. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Five says before Klaus can open his mouth. “I was just leaving, actually.”</p><p>Diego snorts. “That’s a terrible idea. You see why that’s a terrible idea, right?”</p><p>“It’s a good thing I couldn’t care less about your opinion, then, isn’t it?” Five says, edging around Klaus to get to the door.</p><p>“I know where you’re going,” Klaus says.</p><p>Five stills. “Is that so?”</p><p>Klaus manages a weak smile, although he still looks a little sick to his stomach. “What, you think I didn’t see the same marks on their hands that you did?”</p><p>Five grinds his teeth together. It’s like his siblings are actively trying to ruin everything he needs to do. “You knowing changes nothing - I’m still going.”</p><p>“What?” Diego says. “Going where?”</p><p>Klaus laughs. “By <em> yourself</em>? How are you planning on getting through the door?”</p><p>“I’ll blink in,” Five growls.</p><p>“<em>Where</em>?” Diego demands. “Someone answer me!”</p><p>“Blackout,” Klaus says. “It’s a club on the . . . seedier side of town. All of Five’s attackers had a stamp on the backs of their hands from Blackout.” He squints at Five. “Have you ever even been to a club?”</p><p>“Yes,” Five lies. It can’t be too different than a bar, right?</p><p>Diego eyes Five. “And you don’t see a problem with you looking like you do in a club?”</p><p>Five hesitates for a second. “I got all the blood off, didn’t I? Is it my eye?”</p><p>Klaus snorts in laughter. “No, it’s your thirteen year-old-looking ass.”</p><p>Five frowns. “I told you, I’ll blink in. And you guys know I’m not actually thirteen, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Diego says, “but no one <em> else </em> knows that. Who’s going to take you seriously enough to answer any questions once you’re in there? If they don’t call the cops or get the bouncer, first.”</p><p>Klaus puts a reassuring hand on Diego’s shoulder. “Oh, I’ve been there, and trust me, no one will be calling the cops. Er, of the ones who even notice, I mean.” Klaus laughs again. “Plus, Five, it’s not only the thirteen year-old side of you that will cause problems. I doubt your fifty year-old brain is equipped to handle shitty clubs.”</p><p>They might have a point, Five concedes, shifting his weight. His newly-stitched thigh throbs in warning, causing a hiss to slide through his teeth.</p><p>“<em>And </em> you’re injured,” Diego says. “You’re not going alone.”</p><p>As soon as Diego opened his mouth, Five had a bristling response waiting on the tip of his tongue, but it withers at the word “alone.” He thought they would simply stop him from going, but they wanted to join him. Again.</p><p>How can a feeling be both pleasant and distressing at the same time?</p><p>Klaus glances at the clock on the wall and whistles. “You picked a perfect time to go, too - it’s gonna be packed when we get there. A tiny person will be less noticeable.”</p><p>“I’ll get the car,” Diego says, exiting the room.</p><p>Five tries to remember agreeing to them accompanying him and can’t.</p><p>Five tries to remember why he didn’t vehemently deny them and can’t.</p><p><em> They want to help, </em> Dolores says. <em> Let them. </em></p><p><em> Fine, </em> Five agrees reluctantly. <em> Until this is over. Then everything goes back to normal. </em></p><p><em> Of course, </em> Dolores says.</p><p>Five wonders why she sounds so sad.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Blackout is even grimier than Five expected. The building looks like it’s falling apart at the seams: the paint on the outside is peeling, and the only light besides the lone street lamp on the corner is the flickering neon sign above the door that reads, “KOUT.”</p><p>“You used to go here?” Five says, wrinkling his nose.</p><p>Klaus sighs mournfully as Diego parks the car. “Different times, my young grasshopper.”</p><p>“Here’s the plan,” Diego says. “Five blinks in while Klaus and I enter the front door like actual regular adults, because we are. Once we’re in, we ask the staff if anyone remembers seeing a group of three people acting weird - like, murder-weird - earlier this evening. That’s it. I say we bounce if we don’t get anything after half an hour.” He eyes Klaus. “Are you gonna be okay in there?”</p><p>Klaus waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Diego shoots a look at Five that clearly says, <em> Keep an eye on him. </em></p><p>Five blinks, taken aback for multiple reasons. First of all, he’s not Klaus’s mother, and secondly, since when has Five been on this side of a shared look between siblings? He’s normally the one being <em> referenced </em> in the look.</p><p>Five opens the passenger door, then Diego grips his arm. “Be careful.” His eyes are clear, sincere.</p><p>It’s suddenly difficult for Five to swallow, but he rips his arm free and turns away harshly. “I’m not a child,” he says.</p><p>He blinks inside the club.</p><p>Throbbing music pulses in his eardrums. Colorful lights dance through the air, blinding him every so often. Warm, sweaty bodies press against him in careless intimacy.</p><p>Five instantly knows he’s made a mistake. He shouldn’t be here. Klaus was right - he’s not built for this.</p><p>But blinking outside the club would be as bad as admitting he was wrong, so he’s in this for the long haul.</p><p>He untangles himself from a couple high off of something definitely illegal and stumbles across the dance floor, trying to find an end to the throng of people. Each rumbling of bass from the speakers vibrates the tender lump on his eye, sending an ice pick of pain directly to his brain.</p><p>He’s going to throw up, and that would be the opposite of <em> not </em> drawing attention to himself, so he tries squeezing past the pulsating bodies even faster.</p><p>“Hey, kid,” a voice drawls from right beside his ear.</p><p>Five turns to see a brute of a man hunched over, his eyelids drooping over dilated pupils. “Are you lost?”</p><p>Five would normally reply with a sarcastic quip that involves a plethora of cuss words, just to see the asker’s eyes widen, but his blood is humming the same thunderous sound that’s resonating in the air, and he’s afraid he’ll vomit if he parts his lips, so he doesn’t respond.</p><p>The man sways to one side. “Oh, you’re lost,” he slurs. He reaches one thick hand forward, hunger suddenly sparking in those dazed eyes. “I can help you.”</p><p>Then Diego is there, standing between Five and the man, swatting the hand away. The music hasn’t stopped, but Five can hear Diego’s every word. “Don’t. Touch. Him.”</p><p>The man takes a stumbling step forward. “You the kid’s dad or something?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Diego says. “I am.”</p><p>Five manages to fight through the bile enough to say, “You did <em> not </em> just -”</p><p>“Well,” the man says, “you’re not doing a great job, bringing him in here.” He looks at Five. “Anybody could take him, you know?”</p><p>“<em>Leave</em>,” Diego hisses, and, after a pause, the man drunkenly complies.</p><p>Diego turns around, his face a blend of concern and rage. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” Five says, although his stomach is still unsettled and the pounding in his skull hasn’t relented. “And I was fine without your help, for the record.”</p><p>A shadow passes over Diego’s face. “I don’t care. He -” He takes a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. Coming here was obviously a huge mistake.”</p><p>Five already had that thought, but because Diego voiced it, he’s obligated to disagree. “I’m <em> fine</em>. I just need to find a bathroom.”</p><p>Five can tell by the way Diego’s eyebrows draw together that the vigilante’s ready to argue, so Five turns and squeezes into the mob before he can. He was serious about needing the bathroom - his stomach is twisting itself in pained knots. He scans the mill of people crushed against each other in hopes of finding a restroom sign.</p><p>Then, as the music swells, someone in the teeming mass of bodies catches his eye and holds it. It’s a woman with long, dark hair and slightly upturned, brown eyes.</p><p>She smiles.</p><p>And her eyes start to glow blue.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Lost," by Dermot Kennedy</p><p>Will Five ever learn to just stick to his siblings' sides? Probably not.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Call It Post-Traumatic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There may come a day when I post a fic that doesn't switch perspectives, but it is NOT THIS DAY</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>Call It Post-Traumatic</h3><p>Diego watches Five melt into the sea of flesh and has to stop himself from chasing after him. Five looked like he was about to hurl, but whether that’s because of the amount of people around him or that decent-sized lump on his eye that seems to get bigger every time Diego sees it is anybody’s guess. Diego certainly wouldn’t want one of his siblings witnessing <em> him </em> heave up his dinner. And Five’s an adult - older than Diego is, actually. An adult who used to kill people on a regular basis. </p><p>But Diego surges forward anyway, searching for that stupid blue blazer among the dancers. Five was attacked less than two hours ago and just accosted by an inebriated man. Diego’s <em> allowed </em> to worry, and fuck anyone who says differently.</p><p><em> Dammit</em>, why is Five so small?</p><p>The same rush of terror that blazed through him when he first saw that behemoth of a man looming over Five is overwhelming him, and it only grows stronger with every passing second that he can’t find Five.</p><p><em> Maybe he made it to the bathroom already, </em> Diego thinks, but something inside him screams that that’s wrong.</p><p>
  <em> Five, where are you? </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The woman crooks one finger at Five and beckons him over. Five finds himself walking toward her, although he never told his legs to start moving. The pain in his thigh and head are still there, but the nausea seems to have disappeared.</p><p>He stops inches away from her, once again not of his own volition.</p><p>“So,” the woman says, her glowing blue eyes sweeping over his form, “you’re the one who’s been looking for me.” Despite the volume of the music, he has no trouble hearing her.</p><p>Five at least has retained control of his voice, so he snaps, “Who are you?” with the confidence of someone who possesses full mobility of his limbs, which he does not.</p><p>The woman smiles and traces a finger along his jaw, provoking an unpleasant reminder of the Handler. His hand itches to smack her hand away, but no matter how much he strains, it remains at his side. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” she purrs. “I’m Evelynn.”</p><p>Five scoffs. “If you don’t know who I am, why’d you send your lackeys after me?”</p><p>Evelynn looks affronted. “‘Lackeys?’ No, no. I don’t have ‘lackeys.’” Her smile turns knowing. “I only have disciples. And I sent them after you because I wanted to meet the little boy who seemed so interested in my work. My followers told me two men and a boy were touring all of my . . . special places.”</p><p>“Murders,” Five says flatly.</p><p>Evelynn titters. “Well, yes, but that word doesn’t quite capture the true essence of what I do.”</p><p>“And what word would?”</p><p>The woman’s already glowing eyes shine even brighter. “Art,” she says breathlessly. “I create portraits of beauty, of meaning.”</p><p>Five laughs without humor. “You’re too young to understand yet, but there’s no beauty in death.”</p><p><em> Hot blood. Stained hands. “You’re </em> crazy<em>.” </em></p><p>Exhilaration.</p><p>Evelynn cocks her head. “Death isn’t beautiful - I never said it was.” She abruptly changes the topic. “I assume you killed my disciples?”</p><p>
  <em> Crimson smile. </em>
</p><p>“Easily,” Five says.</p><p>Evelynn sighs sadly. “I suspected as much, when they didn’t return within the hour. They were my best runners.”</p><p>“You need to consider outside hiring, then.”</p><p>The woman shrugs. “Ah, well. You’re here anyway, aren’t you?” She gestures at the room, still pulsating with music and bodies. “We like it here - my disciples and I. It’s madness. It’s hidden.” Her lips curl into a smile. “How gorgeous that you end up here even without the guidance of my followers. I always let my disciples pick our next project, because -” she looks at him, and her eyes gleam with humor, as though they’re sharing an inside joke - “as I’m sure you can relate to, it’s not the <em> canvas </em> that matters, is it? It’s what you do with it, what your finished product is. But this time, I picked, and I. Chose. You.” She lightly taps him on the nose.</p><p>Five tries to flex his fingers and can’t. The only things he can move himself are his mouth and eyes.</p><p>“Who are the two men you were with?” she asks casually.</p><p>Five glowers, feeling his heart rate speed up. “No one.”</p><p>“Okay,” she says. “So you’re not particularly attached to either one of them, right?”</p><p>Five stays silent.</p><p>Evelynn pouts. “You’re not very talkative, are you?” She puts a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll be going someplace much quieter soon. I just need you to do one thing first, okay?” She leans forward, her lips brushing against his ear. “<em>Death </em> isn’t what’s beautiful.” She presses something cold, heavy, and instantly familiar into Five’s hands.</p><p>She straightens, blows him a kiss, and says something Five can’t distinguish against the music.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Diego’s almost frantic now, which he distantly realizes is unreasonable, but knowing that doesn’t slow his heartbeat at all. It’s only been a couple minutes, but so much can happen in the span of minutes.</p><p>So much can’t be undone.</p><p>There’s too many people in this room. He <em> knew </em> it was idiotic to come, he <em> knew</em>, but he thought it would be better if he and Klaus went with Five. Five was obviously coming here regardless of what they said, so why not join him, to at least mitigate the potential damage? But Diego can’t even keep track of Five on a dance floor, so he’s not sure what kind of help he is.</p><p>Then he catches sight of a tiny figure with dark hair. He’s standing stock-still, which is slightly concerning, but at least he’s upright. Relief washes over Diego like a flood. “Five!” he yells, although he knows he won’t be heard over the pounding music.</p><p>As he gets closer, his stomach twists itself into an uncomfortable, terrified knot, because he sees Five’s eyes.</p><p>They’re glowing blue.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Five turns away from Evelynn on legs that aren’t his own and walks straight into the crush of people. Five doesn’t know where he’s headed, but his body has no such qualms, because it cuts a direct path through the crowd. </p><p>Any directive he gives his body is ignored. Nothing he does slows his movement through the dancers. He’s at the whim of that woman, and that makes his blood curdle.</p><p>He’s not <em> helpless</em>. He’s not a <em> victim</em>.</p><p>He vowed he would never be either of those things his fifth night in the apocalypse; the same night he finished burying his siblings’ bodies (at least, the ones he could find). The same night he realized he would do <em> everything </em> to get them back.</p><p>Even if he had to unstitch himself from the tapestry to do it.</p><p>He glimpses dark leather in front of himself and suddenly understands where he’s headed, understands what’s about to happen.</p><p><em> No, </em> he thinks, horrified. His thoughts are a swirling, teeming mass of pleas to a thing he doesn’t believe in. <em> Please, anything else, </em> anything else<em>. </em></p><p>“Diego!” he screams.</p><p>Diego’s eyes lock with his, and his brother is immediately shoving through people to get to him.</p><p>“No, Diego!” he shouts, because Diego is doing the exact opposite of what Five needs him to do, but his heart is trapped in his lungs, and he can’t draw in enough breath to say what he needs to. “Stop!”</p><p>Diego can’t hear him over the roar of the music, the roar of Five’s heart, because the vigilante keeps pushing forward until he’s directly in front of Five.</p><p>Five’s chest is too tight, his head is in too much pain, and his heaving, shuddering breaths aren’t providing him with any oxygen.</p><p><em> Please! </em> he begs. <em> Please, somebody! </em></p><p>“Are you okay?” Diego says, kneeling in front of him, worry crinkling his forehead. “What happened? What’s wrong?”</p><p>Tears are running down Five’s cheeks like rain, dripping to the floor, enough to fill the room, but not enough to drown him. Not enough to stop him. “Diego,” he sobs, “<em>run</em>.”</p><p>And just as Diego’s eyes start to widen, just as Five pulls the loaded gun from behind his back, Five realizes what Evelynn’s words, lost in the music, were.</p><p><em> “Agony is.” </em> </p><p>Five shoots Diego in the head, scattering blood like mist.</p><p>Diego drops.</p><p>Five screams.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Fractures," by Illenium</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. If Madness Overtakes Us Both</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*peeks out from behind a wall* Hello my lovely, extremely happy readers.<br/>Don't worry, things get better.</p><p>(Just not yet.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>If Madness Overtakes Us Both</h3><p>Five has seen Diego’s dead body before (several times, actually, although he tries his absolute hardest to forget that), so this one really shouldn’t be any different from the others. Diego’s eyes are open and unseeing, and his blood is red and fresh and dripping - all things Five’s intimately familiar with, all things he’s dreamt about every night. </p><p>The black, singular hole in Diego’s forehead is new. </p><p>The weight of a still-smoking gun in Five’s hand, while not new, is new to this scenario.</p><p>He wants to look away from the body, to squeeze his eyes shut and erase the image from his head, but something colder than Dolores worms its way into his mind and hisses, <em> You did this. The least you can do is look. </em></p><p>And so Five continues to stare at the corpse of his brother.</p><p>He might still be screaming.</p><p>But Diego didn’t even have time to scream, so someone should do it for him, right?</p><p>Someone makes a pitying sound behind him. He can’t turn his head, but he knows who it is even before a slender hand rests on his shoulder.</p><p>“So sad,” Evelynn murmurs. “I can only imagine how much pain you’re in right now.” </p><p>She doesn’t even try to hide the hungry smile from her voice.</p><p><em> I can fix this, </em> Five thinks, sharp relief piercing his head. <em> She can’t keep this up forever. As soon as her concentration lapses, as soon as her power so much as flickers, I’ll time travel. I’ll come back. </em></p><p>Maybe he can warn Diego in time.</p><p>Maybe he can kill himself before the gun goes off.</p><p>But both are moot points anyway, because something pricks his arm, and his vision starts to darken.</p><p>“We’ve only just <em> begun</em>, darling,” Evelynn laughs, her voice sounding far away.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Klaus would be lying if he says being back at Blackout doesn’t dredge up old urges, and he would also be lying if he says he’s strong enough to deny them. It was dumb of him to have come, but Klaus will take any opportunity he can get when it comes to spending time with Five. The old bastard is so frustratingly good at isolating himself - he even did it when they were kids. Before he popped off to a Wonderland from Alice’s worst nightmares.</p><p>Is Klaus a teensy bit scared of Five after seeing the remains of his attackers? Sure, yes, a little. There was a lot of blood, and this is coming from a man who sees dead, bloody ghosts on a daily basis. </p><p>Does it change Klaus’s view of Five? Not really. He’s always known Five - the newer, older Five, that is - lives in a black-and-white world whose shades don’t exactly match the average person’s moral compass.</p><p>That knowledge doesn’t change how gruesome the scene was, though. Klaus would like to never see something like that again, thank you very much.</p><p><em> Anyways</em>, as he was <em> saying</em>, he can’t exactly trust himself inside the club, so soon after entering, he sneaked out a door leading to the barren lot behind the building. It’s not like there isn’t evidence of sketchy things littering the ground out here, either - he’s pointedly ignoring the needles scattered on the other side of the dumpster - but at least it’s quiet. At least he can’t smell the mixture of sweat and drugs that permeates every club he’s ever been in. (He <em> can</em>, however, smell the rancid scent of vomit, which is only barely a step up.)</p><p>Then, abruptly, the throbbing of bass from inside the building is cut off.</p><p>And Klaus hears the screaming.</p><p>He straightens, the hairs on his arms standing up on end. It sounds like chaos, but not the same chaos that typically accompanies a club. The people inside are panicked. Terrified.</p><p>
  <em> Five. Diego. </em>
</p><p>“Shit,” he mutters around the sudden lump in his throat. He can’t get back inside via the same door he exited, so he’ll have to go to the front.</p><p>He’s just starting to run to the entrance when the back door crashes open with a <em> bang</em>.</p><p>Klaus one-eighties, hoping he can get to the door quickly enough to stop it from closing. Then four figures step into the alleyway, and Klaus freezes. One of them is cradling a limp body in his arms. A body that’s too small to have any right coming out of a club.</p><p>For a moment, Klaus is unable to pull any air into his lungs. </p><p>“Block the door,” a female voice commands.</p><p>The two men not holding Five hurry to do her bidding, shoving the mostly-empty dumpster in front of the door.</p><p>Five isn’t dead, at least - Klaus can see him breathing - but he’s out cold.</p><p>None of them have seen Klaus yet, but he’s about to change that, because that’s his brother, dammit, and they can’t just <em> steal </em> him.</p><p>He has to muster a bit of courage before he reveals himself, though, because those four weren’t the only things to walk through the door.</p><p>A horde of ghosts mills around the unknowing group. Klaus is used to the ghosts that occasionally show up around Five - it’s hard to stomach, but Five <em> has </em> killed more than a few individuals in his life - but these are new ghosts, and they’re decidedly unsettling. Most of their faces are permanently screwed up in pain. Some are missing appendages, others have holes burned into their skin, but all of them have eyes glazed in blue.</p><p>And, oh yeah, they’re all screaming.</p><p>Fortunately, Klaus has gained enough control of his power to tune Ghost Noise out, so he can make the shrieking more of a background ambiance. You know, like a soundtrack someone would love to listen to at 3 am, all alone.</p><p>But it’s still disturbing and Klaus hates it a lot.</p><p>What finally gets Klaus moving is not the fact that the three people have begun walking toward a parked van, nor the fact that one of the new ghosts, a middle-aged woman with blond hair, has started staring directly at him as she screams. It’s the thought of Five being with the one who made all of those ghosts. It’s the vision of Five being one of those ghosts, eyes blown wide, tears streaking his cheeks for all eternity.</p><p>“Hey!” Klaus shouts, surprising even himself with his intensity as he starts running forward. He probably should have come up with a plan, he realizes, but it’s a little late for that now. </p><p>One of the men who moved the dumpster spins around, a feral gleam in his eye that makes Klaus want to immediately back-pedal. </p><p>But Five is so still, and those ghosts are still screaming, so Klaus swallows thickly. “Put him down.” He desperately hopes he sounds more threatening than the squeak he thinks just left his mouth.</p><p>“Oh,” the third figure, a woman with long hair and dark eyes, says. “You must be the other one.”</p><p>Klaus doesn’t know what that means. </p><p>“He’s seen us,” the man holding Five says in an accent Klaus can’t place, sounding giddy. “Do we get to kill him?”</p><p>The ghost who’s staring at him stops screaming.</p><p>The woman shakes her head. “Why discard a canvas that hasn’t been painted yet?” She sighs, frustrated. “If I had <em> time</em>, I could make you beautiful. But -” she smiles at Klaus, as though she knows something he doesn’t - “I’m afraid we caused a bit of a scene in there.”</p><p>The pandemonium inside the club is still muffled, but now there’s a frantic banging on the back door barricaded by the dumpster, like multiple people are trying to get out.</p><p>She turns and begins walking away. “Leave him,” she says flippantly. “Wes, get the car started.”</p><p>The three men sag in disappointment and follow her, one of them peeling off to climb into the driver’s seat of the van.</p><p>The ghost who stopped screaming bends close to Klaus’s ear. “You can’t let her take him,” she says, her voice raspy. “She’ll do to him what she did to us.” Her throat is a raw, bulging mess of burned flesh. A seeping cut extends from her forehead to her collarbone. “She’ll do more than kill him.”</p><p>“Let him go,” Klaus says hoarsely. “Take me instead.” He’s been tortured - he knows what awaits Five, and, while he would love to never ever have to endure that again, he would suffer it a million times over if it meant Five didn’t have to.</p><p>The woman pauses, then suddenly turns back around, greed flaring in her eyes. “Do you love him?” she asks, leaning in.</p><p>“<em>Save him</em>,” the ghost screeches.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” Klaus says.</p><p>The woman’s eyes study his face. “Of course,” she says softly. Without looking away from Klaus, she says, “Dominic, have a little fun with the boy.”</p><p>The face of the man cradling Five breaks into a wide smile. He unceremoniously drops Five - Five, whose body still has to be recovering from the attack earlier today - to the pavement and pulls out a knife.</p><p>Klaus lunges forward, panic clawing at his brain and ripping any caution he might have had to shreds.</p><p>The other man grabs his arm, twisting it behind his back and forcing him to his knees. “Don’t do this,” Klaus begs, unable to fully block out the mumbled litany of “Save him save him save him” from the female ghost as he and she stare at Five’s tiny, fragile, unmoving body.</p><p>The woman kisses Klaus lightly on the forehead. “And to think,” she whispers, words for only him to hear, words for only him to dwell on for hundreds of sleepless nights afterward, “you could have stopped this if you’d stayed inside with him.”</p><p>Dominic plunges the knife all the way through Five’s hand.</p><p>Klaus thinks he’s shouting, but he can’t hear himself over the wailing of the ghost.</p><p>Five doesn’t stir, even when Dominic twists the blade.</p><p>“He’ll experience this and so much more,” the woman says, her eyes never leaving Klaus’s face, a wide smile on her lips. “My disciples will toy with him first, and then it will be <em>my </em> turn.”</p><p>Dominic rips the bloodied weapon out and positions it over Five’s eye.</p><p>“<em>Stop</em>,” Klaus moans.</p><p>Dominic grins manically. Then, the grin still on his face, the knife still hovering inches away from Five’s cheek, he lurches forward a little. Blood sprays out from his neck, and he tips to the side, dead.</p><p>The woman hisses in displeasure, snapping her head to the side. “We’ve lingered here too long.” The man behind Klaus releases him and hastily scoops up Five. The woman looks back at Klaus. “Until next time,” she says with a coy smile.</p><p>“No,” Klaus gasps, stumbling to his feet, desperation fracturing his core. “Don’t take him.” Grasping for any last straws his trembling fingers can find, he balls his hands into shining blue fists and starts materializing the ghosts around him. He’s not sure they can do anything, not sure what, if any, help they can provide, but it’s all he has left.</p><p>It’s all <em> Five </em> has left.</p><p>The woman’s eyes grow huge as the twenty-some ghosts start to appear in front of her, as the shrieking heard only in Klaus’s head starts to manifest in the living world. “Who <em> are </em> you people?” she says, her voice a mix of bewilderment and excitement. “You’re all so <em> fun</em>!”</p><p>Footsteps are pounding toward them from the side of the building, but it’s taking all of Klaus’s concentration to keep hold of the ghosts’ forms, so he doesn’t have any to spare to glance in that direction.</p><p>“Last chance,” he pants, praying she doesn’t call his bluff.</p><p>The woman tilts her head, her eyes fixated on his.</p><p>“Evelynn,” the man holding Five says, sounding worried, “are you sure you have enough -”</p><p>“I know my limitations,” the woman snaps. “This is worth it.”</p><p>“Klaus!” someone bellows from behind him.</p><p>Blue light shines from the woman’s eyes.</p><p>Fire as cold as ice floods Klaus’s veins. He blinks, suddenly feeling sluggish, as the fire spreads to the rest of his body.</p><p>“Enjoy,” the woman says, her voice sounding like it’s echoing from all around him.</p><p>“What -” Klaus says around a numb tongue, looking up, but the woman is already gone. </p><p><em> Five </em> is gone.</p><p>The ghosts remain.</p><p>Then his gaze is pulled downward, and he finally sees one of the needles from next to the dumpster burrowed into the crook of his arm, his own thumb depressing the plunger of the syringe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"The Killing Kind," by Marianas Trench</p><p>A chapter summary I almost posted then decided not to:<br/>Evelynn: Let me sing you the song of my people.<br/>Klaus: Please, do not.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. 'Cause I've Been Here Once or Twice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song I picked for this chapter fit the last part so well, I had to use it, even if it doesn't make sense for the rest of the chapter lol.<br/>Thank you all for commenting and reading :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1>
<h3>'Cause I've Been Here Once or Twice</h3>
<p>Klaus doesn’t remember falling, but he’s flat on his back, his long fingers digging, scraping at the concrete beneath him as poison courses through his bloodstream. The high hasn’t come. It won’t come, he thinks, before he’s dead.</p>
<p>A face bends over his, and despite his fevered, swimming vision, he knows it’s Ben’s.</p>
<p>He looks so disappointed.</p>
<p>“Ben, I’m <em> sorry</em>,” Klaus chokes out. It’s not my fault, he wants to say.</p>
<p>But it <em> is </em> his fault that Five was taken. That Five will be tortured.</p>
<p>That Five will die screaming.</p>
<p>“Isn’t this what you wanted, though?” Ben says. Klaus can’t read the expression in his eyes. “Isn’t this how you wanted it to end? Why else did you spend most of your life living that way? When I <em> begged </em> you not to?”</p>
<p>Guilt tears through Klaus like a bullet. “But I’ve changed.”</p>
<p>Ben looks at him. “No, you haven’t,” he says. </p>
<p>Klaus can see the expression in his eyes now.</p>
<p>It’s disgust.</p>
<p>Klaus tips his head back and lets his tears spill to the pavement.</p>
<p>“I promise I’ve changed,” he says as his blood boils and churns with blistering heat. </p>
<p>“I’ve changed,” he says as his veins sing with chemicals. </p>
<p>“I’ve changed,” he lies as he sobs.</p>
<p>Ben stares without pity. “Maybe if you had, I’d still be here.”</p>
<p>Klaus squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.</p>
<p>“Klaus?”</p>
<p>Klaus opens his eyes to see Diego standing next to Ben.</p>
<p>Shame eats at Klaus’s stomach. He’s weak, and he’s known that for his whole life, but now Diego can see it for himself, and that hurts more than he thought it would.</p>
<p>Diego, who has blood splashed onto his dark clothes, crouches next to Klaus, his eyes searching the medium’s body. When his gaze lands on the syringe, his brow furrows.</p>
<p>“I swear, Diego,” Klaus blurts out, because he’s terrified of seeing the same look on Diego’s face as Ben’s, “it wasn’t me, I don’t know how it happened, I’m <em> sorry </em> -”</p>
<p>Diego reaches one hand forward to grab the needle.</p>
<p>His hand passes straight through the syringe.</p>
<p>Diego scowls. “I can’t do it myself, I guess - you’ll have to take it out, Klaus.”</p>
<p>Klaus is too busy staring at Diego to respond. His head is light, and his heart, after skipping a beat, has begun thumping faster and faster in his rib cage. For an instant, he forgets about the poison in his system. “Diego -”</p>
<p>“And do it <em> quickly</em>, because we have to find Five.”</p>
<p>“Diego -”</p>
<p>Diego turns his head to look Ben straight in the eye, which makes Klaus’s already unsteady breathing hitch. “What are <em> you </em> doing here?” Diego says.</p>
<p>“<em>Diego, are you dead</em>?”</p>
<p>Diego blinks, and a second that feels like an eternity to Klaus passes. “Of course not, you dumbass.”</p>
<p>It’s Klaus’s turn to blink. “Then why -”</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t be here,” Ben says to Diego.</p>
<p>Diego stands and faces Ben. “Okay, I don’t know who you are, but you can fuck off, all right?”</p>
<p>Klaus’s head is swimming, but he can’t tell how much of it is because of the drugs and how much is because of how confused he is. “Diego, that’s Ben,” he says dumbly, because he doesn’t know what else to say.</p>
<p>Diego makes a frustrated sound. “No, it isn’t.” He jabs a finger at Ben, which ends up passing right through Ben’s chest. “That’s not Ben, and there isn’t a needle in your arm.”</p>
<p>“What?” Klaus says, because <em> what</em>?</p>
<p>Diego spreads his arms wide. “None of this is real. You’re standing in the middle of the parking lot right now. Your eyes are glowing or some shit. It’s that lady’s fault.” Diego growls. “That <em> fucker </em> that took Five.”</p>
<p>“Then . . . how are you here?”</p>
<p>
  <em> Then why does it hurt so bad? </em>
</p>
<p>But he doesn’t say that.</p>
<p>Diego frowns. “I don’t know. I threw my last knife at the dude standing over Five, then she and the other guy drove away, but you were just standing there. I grabbed you by the shoulders, and, next thing I know, you’re on the ground with a fucking needle in your arm.” His eyes narrow. “How’d that happen, anyway? What did <em> you </em> see?”</p>
<p>“I did it,” Klaus says, voice raw, head spinning, blood sizzling. “I don’t remember, but I think I did it to myself.”</p>
<p>“Because you’re <em> weak</em>,” Ben says.</p>
<p>Diego whirls around. “Dude, <em> shut up</em>.”</p>
<p>“Diego,” Klaus says, “if this isn’t real, how do I get out?” Not that he doesn’t love hearing about how much of a failure he is from his dead brother. Not that he isn’t ecstatic to be somehow experiencing the worst parts of withdrawal even though he’s just supposedly injected himself.</p>
<p>Diego hesitates. “I’m not sure. But I bet it starts with you getting that out of your arm.” He nods at the syringe.</p>
<p>Klaus slowly, agonizingly, sits up and lifts a shaking hand. Tremors are racking his body so hard that it’s difficult to grab the needle, but he finally manages to get a solid grip on it.</p>
<p>“You know this changes nothing,” Ben says, eyes hard. “You’re the same person you always have been.”</p>
<p>Klaus rips the syringe out.</p>
<p>Nothing happens.</p>
<p>Ben smiles. “Change isn’t that easy, Klaus. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”</p>
<p>“Who <em> is </em>this guy?” Diego snaps.</p>
<p>Klaus stares at the dirty needle in his hand, despair crumbling around him like debris. “It didn’t work,” he says numbly. His head falls into his hands. “<em>It didn’t work</em>.”</p>
<p>“Hey,” Diego barks at him.</p>
<p>Klaus raises his spinning head to look at - not Ben, whose calm gaze is so familiar, so devastating - Diego, whose gaze is intense and grounding.</p>
<p>“Five needs us right now,” Diego says, urgency clipping his syllables, tightening his expression. He rests a hand on Klaus’s shoulder, looking surprised when it doesn’t phase through. “<em>I </em> need <em> you </em> right now, okay? So get your shit together.”</p>
<p>Klaus huffs a shaky breath. “Right, yeah, yeah.”</p>
<p>“What could he possibly need from a junkie?” Ben snickers.</p>
<p>“I’ve had it up to <em> here </em> with you, man,” Diego snarls. “I don’t care if you looked like my own <em> mother </em> right now - if I could, I’d fucking <em> deck </em> you.” He looks at Klaus. “Now get us out of here.”</p>
<p>Klaus looks back blankly, the fire rising to a crescendo in his body, in his head. “I don’t know if I can.” He can feel his body shutting down, closing off in an attempt to escape this nightmare.</p>
<p>“You <em> can</em>,” Diego says fiercely. “And I’m going to help you.” He extends his hand toward Klaus.</p>
<p>“You won’t change anything,” Ben says. “Five will die like I did, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”</p>
<p>Klaus grabs Diego’s offered hand. “I’ll save him,” he promises, not totally sure who he’s speaking to.</p>
<p>Diego smirks. “That’s more like it.” He hauls Klaus to his feet -</p>
<p>- and Ben vanishes, the synthetic inferno in Klaus’s blood disappears, and Klaus sucks in a breath as though he’s been drowning.</p>
<p>Diego is standing in front of him, his hands gripping Klaus’s shoulders. He blinks, and then his hands slide off to drop by his sides. “Hey, you did it. Nice job.”</p>
<p>Klaus giggles, because it’s that or weep. “Kinda trippy, right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’d like to never do it again.” Diego bends down and retrieves one of his bloodied knives from off the ground, flipping it in the air before returning it to his belt. He fixes Klaus with a smile the medium can only describe as dangerous. “Let’s save our stupid-ass brother.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Five doesn’t know exactly how long he’s been tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse, but it feels like days. Time is as fuzzy and disoriented as he is for most of the time he’s been here. He can’t blink out of his restraints, courtesy of the drug they keep injecting in him.</p>
<p>But he can’t find the energy to care, because he killed one of his siblings today.</p>
<p>A fist connects solidly with his jaw.</p>
<p>He barely even flinches - he only turns his head to the side and spits out a gob of blood. His head is ringing, his hand burns, and there isn’t a single part of his body that doesn’t hurt, but Diego’s still dead, and he’s not, so he clearly isn’t hurting enough yet.</p>
<p>He squints at the man who punched him with his one good eye and throws a lopsided, bloody grin his way. “That was cute,” he croaks. “Maybe if you do it again, I’ll feel something.”</p>
<p><em> Not enough! </em> his roiling, writhing blood screams. <em> More, more! </em></p>
<p><em> Five, </em> Dolores reprimands sharply, worry edging her tone. <em> This doesn’t change anything. </em> Softer. <em> This won’t bring him back. </em></p>
<p>For the first time he can ever remember, Five ignores her.</p>
<p>“Well?” he says when the man only scowls. “What are you waiting for?”</p>
<p>He welcomes the next blow to his face, his smile never wavering. “That one was better - I think I almost felt it.”</p>
<p>“Daniel.” Evelynn sighs from somewhere off to the side. “Let someone else have their turn.”</p>
<p>The man reluctantly walks toward a corner of the warehouse, where nine other "disciples" are either standing or sitting, all of them staring at Five with undisguised desire. Daniel was the third to spend time with Five.</p>
<p>He has seven more to go.</p>
<p>Five rolls his pounding head toward them. “So, who’s next?”</p>
<p>A woman with a lighter and a deranged smile steps forward.</p>
<p>Five returns the smile. “Make it worth my time, kid.”</p>
<p>
  <em> Make me pay. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Looking at Me," by Sabrina Carpenter</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. A Pretty Mess That I Made for You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the wait! Life stuff happened, but I finally sat down to write this a couple days ago. It's like twice as long as my other chapters, so I'm sorry about that. But I had a lot of fun writing young Hargreeves - I've never done it before, and they're so different when they're kids.<br/>Also, do I have a crush on Diego? Frankly, that's none of your business, and I'm offended that you even asked.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>A Pretty Mess That I Made for You</h3><p>Diego doesn’t know what he’s doing. His brother was stolen from right under his nose by a woman who seems worryingly psychotic. His other brother is looking to <em> him </em> for guidance, as though he should have all the answers, as though he can see the right path laid out in front of him, straight as an arrow and leading to Five.</p><p>But Diego doesn’t know what he’s doing.</p><p>He’d known they were in over their heads the moment he’d seen Five’s glowing eyes and the woman looming behind him, a delighted grin on her face. He’d reached for a dagger at his belt, panic honing his movements, but the woman had waggled a finger at him. Her other hand had held a knife to Five’s throat, just underneath his jaw.</p><p>“Now, now,” she’d said, “I’ve put a lot of work into this boy already, so no one would be more upset than me if you forced me to kill him.”</p><p>Diego had searched Five’s face for any kind of reaction, any kind of movement, but his face had been as still as the rest of his body, his glowing eyes staring through Diego.</p><p>“Let’s introduce ourselves,” the woman had said at the same time a burly man had stepped out of the crowd, his eyes focused on Diego. “Evelynn,” she’d said, gesturing at herself. </p><p>The man had punched Diego in the mouth. Diego’s head had still been snapping back when another fist had plowed into his gut, shoving the breath from his lungs and folding his body like a broken branch.</p><p>He’d tasted the blood leaking from his lips, and with a breathless snarl, he’d weakly pawed at his belt for a knife, but the weight of a smooth, metal barrel pressing between his shoulder blades had given him pause. “I’d be a little more cautious, if I were you,” a young woman had said behind him.</p><p>None of the dancers around them had seen what had been happening - that, or they’d seen and not cared. Given the atmosphere of the place, Diego had been inclined to think it was the latter.</p><p>Diego had straightened, frustration pooling in his blood at the helplessness of the situation. Of himself. He’d glowered at the man who’d punched him but had directed his words at the woman standing next to Five - Evelynn. “What are you doing to him?”</p><p>Evelynn had laughed, moving the knife away from the kid’s neck. “It’s not really any of your business, since he’s mine now. But -” her eyes had suddenly rolled upward in pleasure, her grin stretching even wider - “if only you could hear his <em> screams</em>.” She’d looked at him, and her face had twisted into something sly. “Diego, is it?”</p><p>Despite the blood dripping onto his tongue, Diego’s mouth had felt dry. “How did you know that?”</p><p>Evelynn had carded her fingers through Five’s hair. “Well, I didn’t say <em> what </em> he was screaming, did I?” She had taken a step forward, and the man had obediently moved out of her way so she could stand directly in front of Diego. Diego was taller, so she’d been forced to tilt her head back to look at him as she’d traced the scar on his temple with gentle fingers. “You’re exactly my type,” she’d murmured. Diego’s skin had crawled at her delicate touch, but the steady presence of the gun at his back had ensured his stillness. “Ruggedly handsome and righteously angry.” She’d sighed, wistful. She’d been so close her breath had tickled his cheek. “I wonder what your screams would taste like.”</p><p>“Thanks, but I’m not interested,” Diego had managed to grunt.</p><p>Evelynn had pressed uncomfortably close. “What do you want?” she’d whispered, abruptly switching tactics.</p><p>Diego had met her gaze, unflinching. “My brother back.”</p><p>Evelynn had shaken her head. “No, what do you <em> desire</em>, above all else? Beyond right now, beyond yesterday, beyond tomorrow?” Her eyes had seemed to gleam in a passing beam of light. “Because I can show it to you.”</p><p>“If you show people what they want,” Diego had said, tilting his head toward the immobile, silent figure of Five, “then why would he be screaming?”</p><p>Evelynn had shrugged, that damned smile back on her lips. “Deepest desire, darkest fear - what’s the difference?</p><p>“But of course,” she’d said with a sigh, finally turning away from Diego and giving him the space he’d needed to breathe normally again, “you can’t start with the worst. You have to start with the most realistic, and then ease them into the worst, or else they’ll know it isn’t real.” She’d held out her hand, into which the big man had dropped a syringe. She’d turned her head to look back at Diego, a wild excitement in her eyes. “And considering what his mind started out with, I can’t <em> wait </em> to see what his worst is.” She’d stabbed the needle into Five’s arm and depressed the plunger.</p><p>Five had blearily blinked those glowing eyes, now starting to dim, once, twice, before they’d closed completely and he’d slid bonelessly to the floor.</p><p>Diego had tensed, about to spring forward to catch him, but the gun had dug deeper into his back. “Nuh-uh,” the young woman had hummed happily.</p><p>Evelynn had glanced at the teeming, writhing mass of bodies, some of which were starting to give the group of them second glances now that there was an unconscious thirteen year-old crumpled on the ground. “We need to sow some chaos,” she’d said, a frown on her face. “Panic makes people forget.” She’d flicked her gaze toward Diego, her lips quirking upward. “And harder to follow, wouldn’t you agree?” She’d tugged a pistol from her waistband, casually pointed it at the nearest dancer, and pulled the trigger.</p><p>Blood had sprayed the crowd behind the dancer in a wide arc. Diego hadn’t been able to stop the flinch that shuddered through him when droplets spattered onto his face and jacket.</p><p>“A waste of a death,” Evelynn had called out over the shrieks of terror. “But the occasional sacrifice must be made.”</p><p>Diego had known he should have been looking at the dead man on the floor, should have paid more attention to him, but all he’d been able to look at had been Five, and all he’d been able to think had been, That’s<em> who has Five right now. A woman who didn’t blink twice before killing someone. </em></p><p>As people had streamed past them, screaming mindlessly, the woman behind Diego had giggled, and the press of the gun against his back had eased a little. Enough for him to grab one of his knives and, with a quick flick, send it spinning forward.</p><p>“Hey,” the woman had said, suspicion sharpening her tone. “What did you just -?”</p><p>Directing projectiles 180 degrees had never been an easy task, but after years of rigorous training - some of it voluntary, most of it not - he’d been able to do it with enough concentration. So he’d concentrated then, willed his knife to curve back toward him like a deadly boomerang.</p><p>Because he’d never seen the woman behind him, he’d had to guess where her neck would be, but, based on the strangled groan that had left her mouth, he’d figured whatever he’d hit had been close enough. She’d dropped, the pressure of the gun had disappeared, and Diego had wasted no time flinging another of his knives at Evelynn. She’d needed to be taken care of first. </p><p>There’d been no reason to curve the path of the dagger, but he’d wished he had when the big man had stepped in front of her and taken the knife to his shoulder.</p><p>Evelynn’s eyes had widened, her lips curling up in a smile. “I’ve never seen <em> that </em> trick before.” She’d snapped her fingers, and from seemingly nowhere a thinner man had appeared next to Five, holding a pistol almost lazily to Five’s temple. “But let’s not do that again, hm?”</p><p>“Evelynn,” the big man had rumbled, yanking the knife out of his shoulder. “We’ll take care of him. You take the boy and go.”</p><p>Evelynn had calmly raised her gun up and shot the man in the back of the head. “I hate it when people tell me what to <em> do</em>,” she’d complained, stepping over her former colleague’s corpse.</p><p>Amidst the pandemonium, Diego had been able to see pockets of stillness in the frantic crush of people trying to get out - six or seven individuals who, instead of joining the mad rush for the exits, had been standing in place, their eyes on Evelynn. They’d begun moving forward, hunger in their eyes, the murder of one of their associates apparently not deterring them.</p><p>Evelynn had pointed at a few of them, one being the man crouched over Five. “You three - grab the boy and come with me. The rest of you -” she’d looked directly at Diego and smiled. “Entertain our guest.” She’d leaned toward Diego conspiratorially. “I hope you survive, Diego. I’d love to meet again.” Her voice had become soft as feathers. “I’d love to taste your pain.”</p><p>Diego would have loved to shove his knife up her chin, would have loved to get that fucking smile off her face, but he’d known it would result in Five’s death, so he’d only forced himself to smile back. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” he’d said, his smile becoming almost real. “Because when we do meet again, I’m going to kill you.”</p><p>Evelynn had fluttered her lashes at him. “Promise?”</p><p>Diego’s grin had felt more like a snarl then. “Promise.”</p><p>Evelynn had made a pleased sound from the back of her throat, then had whirled around. “Come along, boys,” she’d said. “We have work to do.”</p><p>Diego had watched as they’d picked Five up, as they’d pushed through what had been left of the crowd to the back door.</p><p>She’d thought he’d be taken care of - it had been one against three, after all, and they’d all looked eager to start the fight.</p><p>But Five’s life hadn’t been able to be used against him anymore, so Diego had a feeling he’d be seeing Evelynn sooner than she’d anticipated. He’d pulled out a knife and faced the three remaining lunatics. “Let’s make this quick.”</p><p>So now here he is, one bullet graze, two lacerations, and three dead bodies later, with no idea how to save Five from that sadistic monster.</p><p>Klaus, at least, seems to be almost fully recovered from his stint with Evelynn’s powers, although there’s something sad in the medium’s eyes that isn’t going away.</p><p>“How do we get Five back?” Klaus says, worry bundled around his words like a blanket.</p><p>Diego releases a breath of air, panic and frustration pressing against his skin. “I don’t know,” he says shortly. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Unless you happened to catch sight of that van’s license plate, we’re shit out of luck.” But that isn’t true - <em> Five </em> is the one shit out of luck, except Diego is trying his absolute hardest not to think about what Five might be going through right now.</p><p>“No,” Klaus says, looking crestfallen. Then he glances sharply to his left. “You what?”</p><p>Diego frowns. “Who are you talking to?”</p><p>Klaus flaps a hand in Diego’s direction as he stares intently at what looks like nothing to Diego.</p><p>Diego tries, he really does, to wait patiently, but waiting has never been something he’s good at, and patient has never been a word used to describe him. “Well?” he demands after a few seconds.</p><p>“If you gave her time to <em> speak</em>, maybe I could tell you,” Klaus snaps. He looks back at the empty air, nodding his head. “Okay,” he finally says. “She says she’s gonna help us find Five.”</p><p>“Who’s <em> she</em>?”</p><p>Klaus rubs his throat for some reason. “One of, uh, the woman’s victims.”</p><p>“Evelynn,” Diego corrects without entirely knowing why he feels the need to.</p><p>Klaus raises an eyebrow at him. “On a first-name basis, are we?”</p><p>Diego scowls. “Shut up.”</p><p>“Wait, no, you don’t seriously -”</p><p>“Of course not,” Diego growls.</p><p>“Good. She’s way worse than Lila.”</p><p>“Can you go <em> five minutes </em> without bringing up Lila?”</p><p>“What?” Klaus exclaims, spreading his hands. “She was psycho, too!”</p><p>
  <em> “I’d love to taste your pain.” </em>
</p><p>Something dark and uncomfortable squirms in Diego’s gut. “Not like this,” he says quietly.</p><p>Klaus sobers, his hand absent-mindedly massaging the crook of his arm.</p><p>Diego clears his throat awkwardly. He’d gotten as close as he could stomach to talking about feelings with Klaus earlier, and he isn’t about to do it again. “How is she going to help us?”</p><p>Klaus blinks. “Uh, right. She thinks she can convince the other victims - er, ghosts - to look for the van. Like a little dead search party.” He winces, craning his head away from something. “I’d ask them myself if they would <em> stop screaming</em>.”</p><p>Not for the first time, Diego is reminded of how shitty Klaus’s powers are. “Why aren’t they with her right now? Don’t they normally follow the ones they have, like, ‘unfinished business’ with or whatever?” he says.</p><p>“Yeah, normally,” Klaus says, shrugging. “But apparently these guys think -” He pauses, tilting his head as though listening to someone speak. He grins, although the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “They think we have the best chance of killing her.”</p><p>“Well, then,” Diego says, his tone dark. “Let’s get started.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Someone grips Five by the hair and shoves his head underneath the water.</p><p>Five clenches his eyes and jaw shut, as though that will somehow help him hold onto the air in his chest. It hasn’t the last few times, but old habits die hard, he supposes. He tries to jerk his head out of the bucket, but the thick-fingered hand on his head twists his hair harder and pushes him farther down.</p><p>His lungs are screaming for breath, shrieking for air, and Five can’t do a damn thing about it.</p><p>He tells himself not to struggle, because that’s what these maniacs want, it’s what they <em> enjoy</em>, and it won’t get his head out of the water any faster, but his bound legs try to kick out anyway, and his wrists chafe against the rope tying him to the chair. No matter what he says to his body, it <em> knows </em> it’s dying, and it futilely does its best to survive.</p><p>His head is pounding, his ears are throbbing, and Five runs out of breath faster than he has the last couple of times they’ve done this. He opens his mouth. The water greedily rushes in.</p><p>He’s drowning.</p><p>The hand yanks his head out of the bucket. Five chokes and coughs most of the water out of his lungs, but the fingers are still wound tightly in his hair. Through a hazy film of water, he sees the face of a chubby disciple lean in close. Five’s head is forced back so his face is tilted upward. “Mommy and Daddy can’t save you now,” the man says, sounding pleased. He’s probably proud that his single-celled brain was finally able to come up with an ominous-sounding threat.</p><p>Five can’t stop the sneer from curling onto his face. “My mommy was a robot,” he says, water still dribbling from his lips. “And between the two of them, <em> she </em> had the warmer heart.”</p><p>The man blinks, clearly unsure of what to do with that information.</p><p>So, obviously, he pushes Five’s head back into the bucket.</p><p>Somewhere beyond the drugs and the pain, Five knows he should be trying harder to get out of this situation, or at least be more upset about it. But this is, while not divine, retribution, and Five deserves every second of it.</p><p>There was a day, several months before his first botched attempt at time travel, that he keeps replaying over and over in his head. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he first woke up in this warehouse.</p><p>It was the day Diego saved Five’s life.</p><p>
  <em> They were on a mission - Reginald, via what Five realized much later was probably illegal methods, had been alerted that a nearby bank’s alarm had been triggered. He’d wanted his perfect superheroes to get there and stop the robbery before the cops did, to showcase their skills to the world again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Of course, he hadn’t told them that, but they all realized it later on. (Some sooner than others.) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So like the dutiful, overpowered children they were, they donned their masks and sneaked into the bank at three in the morning. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Klaus giggled quietly as they made their way to the bank’s vault. “It’s so spooky in here at night,” he said jokingly, although he couldn’t fully hide the tremor in his voice. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shut up,” Luther hissed. “They’ll hear you coming.” </em>
</p><p><em> Five couldn’t see Diego’s eyes, courtesy of the mask, but he knew Diego narrowed them. “Just because you’re N-N-Number One doesn’t mean you have to be a st-st-st-stick in the mud </em> all <em> the time.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Luther’s voice was stiff. “Dad put me in charge.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ben, ever the peacekeeper, said, “Guys -” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “‘Dad put me in charge,’” Diego mocked in a high falsetto. “Way to s-s-sound real leader-like.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m going to rumor both of you if you don’t stop fighting,” Allison warned. From experience, both boys knew it was more than an idle threat, so they clamped their jaws shut and made do with glaring at each other. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Looking back, Diego and Luther’s rivalry had been so petty, so childish. At the time, it was just annoying. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Years later, Five would have given anything to hear the two of them bicker. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They reached the vault to find the huge, steel door partly hanging open and three men in front of it, stuffing bags with cash. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay,” Luther said in a hushed tone. “Here’s the plan -” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But Five didn’t stick around to hear the rest, because while he might not have been as vocal as Diego about it, he also didn’t care for Luther’s leadership. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Or any that wasn’t his own, actually. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He blinked directly behind the nearest thief and peered over his shoulder. “Whatcha doing?” he asked loudly. He grinned when the man jumped about a foot in the air and whirled around, fumbling for his gun. Five held up the weapon he’d plucked from the man’s holster. “Looking for this?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Show-off,” he heard Diego mutter before a knife tumbled through the air, thudding into the second man’s shoulder, who crumpled to the floor with a groan. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The third man raised his gun, his wide eyes looking between the kids who’d just appeared from the shadows. Before he could do anything, Allison stepped forward. “I heard a rumor you fell asleep.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At the same time he collapsed, the first man lunged for Five, his fingers groping for Five’s throat. Five easily sidestepped, allowing Luther to slide into his place and punch the man in the face.  </em>
</p><p><em> “Could you not go off on your own for </em> once<em>?” Luther said through gritted teeth, wiping the blood off his knuckles as the man dropped to the floor, out cold. Allison crouched next to the second man, rumoring him to join his partners in dreamland. </em></p><p>
  <em> Five shrugged. “I can’t help that I’m better than you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Luther frowned. “You’re not better,” he said lowly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Girls, girls, you’re both pretty,” Allison said, rolling her eyes and rising to her feet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ben sighed in relief. “I’m just glad there weren’t more of them. So I didn’t have to . . . you know.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Klaus patted him on the back, his face sympathetic. “Yeah, I know.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five didn’t understand not wanting to use your powers - they were what made them strong. What made them special. Why wouldn’t you want to train them and make them better, so you could be stronger? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They all heard the distant sound of sirens at the same time. Allison immediately straightened her mask and began patting her hair down. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yippee,” Diego grumbled. “The Number Three Show is about to start.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Allison glared at him as she pulled a tube of lipstick from her pocket. “Forgive me for being the most likeable one of us.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “More like the one that likes cameras the most,” Klaus said in a decidedly un-quiet whisper, causing Ben to snigger. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Allison fixed her sharp gaze on Klaus, but she didn’t try to deny it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, hey,” Klaus said brightly, changing the subject, as he was prone to do when he was on the receiving end of someone’s ire. “I’ve got a title they can use for the next newspaper - ‘Seance Saves the Day by Saving the Night.’” </em>
</p><p><em>“First of all,” Luther said, “that’s a totally stupid title, and secondly, you didn’t even do</em> <em>anything.”</em></p><p><em> Klaus pouted. “Yeah, but </em> they <em> don’t know that, do they?” </em></p><p>
  <em> Five was determined to ignore his siblings, which was why he heard the sound from inside the vault. It was quiet, just a quick shuffling noise, but Five’s head whipped toward the half-open door. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Guys,” Diego hissed. “I think there’s s-s-s-someone in the vault.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I didn’t even think to check,” Luther said, sounding angry with himself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s fine,” Ben said placatingly. “I’m sure we can handle whoever’s in there.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five took a step forward, and Luther’s hand immediately shot out to grab his arm in a grip that was hard enough to be painful. “What do you think you’re doing,” Luther said, almost guttural. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why, waiting for your impeccable orders, O Fearless Leader,” Five said as sweetly as he could.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Luther scowled, but he released Five’s arm. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five blinked into the vault. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A man was crouched near the back, his shaking hands clutching a gun. He shrieked when Five appeared in front of him in a flash of blue and whipped his gun up. “Get - get back,” he warned, the tremors in his voice as loud as the ones in his hands. </em>
</p><p><em> Five snorted. They definitely didn’t have anything to worry about - this guy was terrified. “I thought </em> we <em> were supposed to be the children,” he said dryly. </em></p><p>
  <em> He heard someone step into the vault, and he turned to see Diego, a knife in his hand. “Luther’s mad at you,” Diego said simply, his eyes fixed on the robber. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Like Five cared. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Stay back!” the thief hollered, and Five realized, much too late, that a terrified man with a gun was much much worse, because he frantically pivoted the gun toward Diego and fired. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five blinked next to the robber without a second to spare. He shoved the man’s arm hard, causing his aim to go wild. The sound of the gunshot was brutally loud, amplified by the steel walls encasing the three of them. The bullet embedded itself into the wall. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five was still breathing hard from the close call when something slammed into his head. His vision wheeled, his legs buckled, and suddenly he was on his hands and knees, the room spinning slow, lackadaisical circles around him. </em>
</p><p>The gun,<em> Five realized sluggishly. </em>He hit me with the butt of his gun.</p><p>
  <em> “Five!” Diego yelled, and Five tried to blink to his brother’s side, but his head was whirling too much for him to be able to use his powers. Diego threw the knife in his hand, and it thunked into the man’s shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. </em>
</p><p><em> They were thirteen. They weren’t used to </em> killing <em> people. </em></p><p>
  <em> At least, not most of them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At least, not yet.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (It would look bad in the press, which was why Ben was rarely interviewed.) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So Five crawled forward, loathing how defenseless he was, disgusted by how useless he was. He heard the cocking of the gun. He turned his head to see the barrel of the gun pointed directly at him. </em>
</p><p><em> The terror that seized him was cold and realer than anything else he’d experienced until that moment. He was thirteen. He couldn’t </em> die<em>. </em></p><p>
  <em> He wished he had, not too long afterward, as he knelt in the midst of ruined buildings, ruined earth, ruined bodies, but that hardly mattered. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He didn’t have time to scream before the gun went off. He didn’t even have time to close his eyes. So it was with muted horror that he watched the bullet discharge from the metal barrel. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And it was with muted bemusement that he watched the bullet angle sharply upward and bury itself in the ceiling. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five was still blearily trying to understand how he wasn’t dead when the steel vault door was ripped from its hinges with a metallic screech, revealing a panting Luther standing in the circular doorway. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What -” the man said, still staring at the hole in the ceiling. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Allison skipped forward, passing Five with a swish of her skirt. “I heard a rumor,” she said, stopping a foot in front of the thief, “that you dropped your gun.” It clattered to the ground, but the sound was nearly silent compared to the deafening blast from earlier. “I heard a rumor you fell asleep.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wait,” Five said, feeling like everything was suddenly fast-forwarding around him. “What just -” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ben poked his head in. “Oh, only one? We thought there might have been more in here when we heard the gunshots.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Klaus sauntered in next, finger-gunning his siblings. “Good work, my lovely sidekicks. The Seance does it again.” He squinted at them. “Whoa, what’s the matter with you two? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He guffawed, while Ben politely smiled at the terrible joke. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” Allison said, frowning. “What’s up with you guys?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Diego was breathing hard, sucking in huge, shuddering gulps of air, his hands splayed out in front of himself. Five didn’t know what he looked like, but the fact that he was on his hands and knees probably wasn’t a great start. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Are you injured?” Luther, assuming the role of commander once again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five looked at Diego’s shaking hands, then at the bullet in the ceiling, and was able to shelve the pain in his head long enough to figure out what had happened. “Hey, Diego,” he said, trying to sound light-hearted, trying to make it sound like his heart wasn’t still ricocheting against his chest, “that’s a pretty neat upgrade.” Diego had never been able to manipulate a projectile as fast as a bullet before. “Wish you’d said something earlier - I wouldn’t have been as wor-” </em>
</p><p><em> “F-F-F-F-</em>FUCK<em>!” Diego screamed at the floor, clenching his hands into fists. Tears ran down his cheeks. “D-d-d-don’t you get it, Five? You almost </em> died<em>.” </em></p><p>
  <em> The other siblings sobered, looking between the two of them in confusion. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Five stumbled to his feet, using the wall as a crutch. The room was still spinning. “Yeah, but I didn’t.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Diego shook his head, tears still streaming down his face. “St-st-stop going ahead alone.” He finally looked up from the floor. “Stop leaving us b-b-b-behind.” </em>
</p><p>And how did Five repay Diego for that day? By disappearing for seventeen years. </p><p>By coming back and killing Diego.</p><p>His head is pulled out of the bucket, and he barely has the energy to spit the water out of his mouth this time.</p><p>A blurry face looms in front of him, but it’s not the chubby disciple.</p><p>“You’re tough,” Evelynn says, sounding amused. “I’ve seen men much older than you barely able to form a coherent thought long before my disciples are finished.”</p><p>Five is tired. “Fuck you.”</p><p>Her grin widens. “Let alone string two words together!”</p><p>Is she here to use her powers on him? He’s tied to a chair - what could she possibly make him do?</p><p>Five’s chest tightens until it hurts more than anything else in his body. How long is her power’s range? Could she control him from miles away? Could she send him after the rest of his siblings?</p><p>Evelynn settles back on her haunches, her eyes starting to glow.</p><p>“Well, then,” she says, her tone bright. “Let’s get started.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Killer," by The Ready Set</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Bury Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the wait again - this chapter took me so freaking long to write, but I finally forced myself to finish it today. Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>Bury Me</h3><p>When the Dead Search Party™ first left to look for Evelynn’s van, Klaus and Diego parked the car next to a payphone several miles away. They needed to get some distance from Blackout - they didn’t want to waste time answering questions the police wouldn’t be able to use in the long run. Diego tried calling the other siblings on the payphone multiple times, but no one picked up, and they couldn’t afford to leave and look for them in person. If Klaus left, Diego wouldn’t be able to know when the ghosts came back, and if Diego left, Klaus wouldn’t be able to drive to the location the ghosts specified. Not that he can’t drive - he totally can, and he’s totally good at it - but he’s missing that pesky thing called a license.</p><p>So they’ve spent the last hour bickering in the car, or, in Diego’s case, sometimes while pacing impatiently on the sidewalk.</p><p>But when they aren’t bickering, they’re quiet, and that’s when possibilities of what Five could be enduring flit through Klaus’s head like old film, so he tries his best to keep the arguments going.</p><p>“I still don’t see why we can’t be out looking at the same time your ghost buddies are,” Diego says for the millionth time as he drums his agitated fingers on the steering wheel.</p><p>And for the millionth time, Klaus, unused to being the reasonable one, says, “Because they wouldn’t be able to <em> find </em> us. This way, they know exactly where we are.” Which makes sense, and if Diego were thinking logically, he’d be able to see that, but the vigilante can’t stand doing nothing. Not that Klaus doesn’t love being cooped up in the car while he knows one of his brothers is being tortured, but at least he’s kept hold of his common sense. </p><p>“I’d have found him by now,” Diego says.</p><p>Klaus sighs. “No, you wouldn’t have. Unless your power has upgraded without me knowing and you can now <em> levitate </em> and <em> walk through walls</em>.”</p><p>“I <em> hate </em> this,” Diego snarls.</p><p>Klaus gasps. “Really? You’ve been hiding your frustration so well.”</p><p>Diego flips him the bird, but before Klaus can retaliate, the female ghost with the burned throat sticks her head between the seats. Klaus lets out a very manly scream before composing himself.</p><p>“What?” Diego is instantly alert. “Is it a ghost? Has it found something?”</p><p>“She’s started,” the ghost rasps. “Hurry.” She starts floating ahead of the car.</p><p>“She wants us to follow her,” Klaus says, his chest tight. </p><p>
  <em> She’s started. </em>
</p><p>What could that mean?</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Five doesn’t remember when Evelynn turned off all the lights, and he doesn’t remember how long he’s been trapped in this darkness, but when a light clicks on, he has to blink the spots out of his eyes before he can see.</p><p>Klaus is huddled in a corner of the room, his back pressed against the wall, his wide, feverish eyes locked onto Five. Five doesn’t see Evelynn or her disciples, but he knows they must be lurking nearby.</p><p>“Klaus,” Five says. His throat aches, and the word comes out cracked and hoarse. Klaus is obviously terrified, so Five is trying not to display his own raw panic. How long has Klaus been here? When did she grab him? What has she done to him? “You have to get out of here while she’s gone.”</p><p>Klaus shakes his head and whispers something too low for Five to catch. Five leans forward, and that’s when he realizes the ropes binding him to the chair are gone. He tries to remember when that happened. He wobbles to his feet, wincing at the pain that rakes its claws down his chest and burrows into his throbbing thigh. It hurts to move, but Klaus is still just <em> sitting </em> there, like he doesn’t understand the danger he’s in. Five would blink them out if he could, but whatever they injected him with is still swimming in his veins. “Klaus, <em> move</em>,” Five barks. “I don’t know when she’ll be back.” He takes a lurching step forward.</p><p>Klaus flinches so hard his head smacks into the wall.</p><p>Five stills quickly enough to feel his heartbeat hesitate.</p><p>Klaus is terrified of <em> Five</em>.</p><p>“Klaus,” Five chokes out, because he can feel something thick building up in his throat.</p><p>Klaus tries to scoot backwards, but he’s already as close to the wall as he can get. “Don’t,” he pleads, tears gleaming in his eyes. “Please, don’t.” His gaze darts toward Five’s hand.</p><p>It’s only now that Five feels the knife clutched in his fingers. “I wouldn’t,” he says, but his hand isn’t letting go of the weapon.</p><p>“You’re <em> crazy</em>,” Klaus says, dragging Five’s attention back to him.</p><p>“I’m not,” Five tries to say, but the lie dies before it can reach his tongue.</p><p>Then Evelynn is there, positioned so only Five can see her step out of the shadows. She smiles. She doesn’t open her mouth, but Five can hear her voice as clear as darkness in his head. </p><p>
  <em> “Paint me a masterpiece.” </em>
</p><p>And he does.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Diego doesn’t open the car door so much as bludgeon it. There’s a large, silent warehouse in front of them, and he can see the light creeping beneath the door on the side of the building. “That’s the one, right?” Diego says even though he’s already running.</p><p>Klaus stumbles out of the car after him. “Wait, shouldn’t we have, like, a plan or something?”</p><p>“Already do,” Diego says, still moving forward. “Kill everything.”</p><p>“Um, yeah, that’s cool and all, but I was thinking more of an <em> actual </em> plan.”</p><p>“I don’t see anything wrong with mine.”</p><p>“Of <em> course </em> you don’t,” Diego barely hears Klaus mutter before he rounds the corner of the building.</p><p>There’s a man sitting on a folding chair outside the door, a haze of smoke nestled around his face and a blunt between his fingers. There’s dried blood on his knuckles. He staggers to his feet when he sees them, his hand fumbling for something at his belt. “What’re you -”</p><p>Diego’s knife thuds into his chest, and he slides to the ground. Diego bends down and rifles through the man’s clothes, finding two more knives to add to his collection. Evelynn’s people apparently have a thing for knives.</p><p>Diego pointedly ignores what that might say about himself.</p><p>“There’s nine more inside,” Klaus says in a hushed tone, relaying what his ghost spies are probably telling him. “Plus the woman.”</p><p>“Where are they?” Diego says, ripping his knife out of the dead man’s chest. He has six knives now - not enough for all of them.</p><p>Klaus looks at the empty space on his right. “They’re all huddled in the corner on the left,” he says eventually. “They’re -” his face twists, as though he ate something unpleasant - “playing cards and drinking, like they’re just . . . hanging out.”</p><p>“And Evelynn?”</p><p>“She’s with Five. In a room in the back.” Klaus winces at whatever the ghost says. “He’s in bad shape.”</p><p>“All right.” Diego grabs another knife so he’s holding one in each hand and braces his shoulder against the door. “Remember not to look her in the eyes.”</p><p>“Right.” Klaus pauses. “Wait, sorry, are you expecting the two of us to go in there <em> by ourselves</em>? Why wouldn’t we round up the rest of the gang? Allison would be so mad if she found out we did this without her.”</p><p>“We don’t have time,” Diego says. “He’s already been with that psycho for hours now - who knows how long it takes her to kill her victims. Besides, can’t you summon those ghosts to help us out?”</p><p>Klaus glances to the side. “If I made it possible, would you beat up the guys in there?” Silence. “Yeah, killing’s fine, too.” He turns back to Diego with a smile. “They’re in!”</p><p>“Then let’s go,” Diego says. “Five needs us.”</p><p>Klaus’s shoulders slump. “You’re right,” he says morosely. He then claps a hand to Diego’s shoulder. “Well, I’d say I’ll see you on the other side, but seeing as I was kicked out the last time I went there, that’s not a guarantee.”</p><p>“What?” Diego says.</p><p>“Aaaaand in we go!” Klaus says, sweeping past Diego to twist the knob and open the door.</p><p>Just as Klaus’s informant said, a group of people are seated at a card table on the left, bottles of alcohol spread around them. Some of them groggily glance up as Diego and Klaus step into the room, but most are too focused on the game in front of them to bother. “Greg,” one of the less intoxicated criminals says, laying down his hand without looking up, “your shift isn’t over for another fifteen minutes, and <em> no</em>, I won’t switch spots with you.” He might have said more, but Diego never finds out, because his knife slices through the man’s throat in a spray of blood.</p><p>By now, the rest of the card players have realized something’s wrong, but another two are dead before anyone moves, and Diego’s down to three knives.</p><p>The dealer rips a gun from his waistband and fires at Diego. Diego lifts his hand, and the bullet veers to the side, straight into the chest of a woman lunging for Klaus.</p><p>“Nice form,” Klaus says.</p><p>“Thanks,” Diego grunts as he flings another knife into someone’s chest. “I wouldn’t say no to some <em> help</em>, though.”</p><p>“Right, right.” Klaus flexes his fingers. Within seconds, a dozen transparent, wispy forms appear around Klaus. The ghosts look disgusting, if Diego’s being perfectly honest, but they scramble toward the remaining card players with loud shrieks, so he isn’t about to complain.</p><p>“Pretty cool, huh?” Klaus pants, his raised arms trembling slightly. He’s already exhausted, and his ghosts have only been summoned for a few moments. Diego’s tired as he always is when he uses his powers for long periods of time. He was still drained from his first encounter with Evelynn and her henchmen at the start of this fight. The two of them are looking the worse for wear and they haven’t even confronted Evelynn yet.</p><p>A woman darts away from the ghosts and runs for the exit, but Diego’s knife is embedded in her back before she’s halfway there. A man shoots at the horde of specters with quivering hands as they steadily float toward him. “No, don’t!” he squeals when the first one reaches him. </p><p>The ghost, a woman with a terrible burn on her throat, says in a husky voice, “Funny, I remember saying the same thing.” She reaches both transparent hands forward and latches them around his throat. The other ghosts spread out and smother a young woman, who crumples to the ground with muffled howls, before moving on to the last man.</p><p>Then Klaus gasps, and the blue light around his hands dies away. The ghosts wink out of existence, leaving the trembling man standing alone. “Wh-what?” he says, blinking.</p><p>“Shit,” Klaus says.</p><p>Diego flings his knife toward the man, who drops to the floor with a gurgle. The man’s chest hasn’t even fully stopped moving before Diego is running toward the door that leads to the next room. Evelynn has to know they’re here - there were multiple gunshots - but she hasn’t shown herself, which means one of two things: she’s either escaped, or she's waiting to spring a trap.</p><p>But trap or not, Diego’s opening that door, because Five is there, and Diego isn’t going to leave him alone any longer.</p><p>“Five!” Diego hollers. He throws the door open and feels a surge of nausea and anger rise in his stomach. Five is seated on a wooden chair, his wrists bound to the armrests, his feet tied to the chair legs. His jacket must have been taken off at some point, because Diego can see his bare arms and the raw burns and seeping cuts scattered across them. His hair is damp, and his dripping locks have created wet splotches on the shoulders of his shirt. His one good eye is glowing blue as he vacantly stares straight ahead, looking in Diego’s direction, but at something far beyond Diego. His already swollen face is now decorated in swaths of purple and blue bruises.</p><p>It’s not like any of those injuries aren’t already worrisome, but for some reason, it’s the bruises shaped like fingers circling Five’s throat that makes Diego’s blood boil.</p><p>“What did you do to him?” Diego spits at the figure standing just behind Five, his eyes still focused on his brother.</p><p>Evelynn laughs lightly. “Did you call him <em> Five</em>? What an interesting name for an interesting boy.”</p><p>Diego hears Klaus’s footsteps behind him, then the medium’s sharp intake of breath. “Fuck,” Klaus says, his voice strangled as he stands next to Diego.</p><p>“Oh, it’s both of you,” Evelynn says, sounding pleased.</p><p>“Don’t look at her,” Diego reminds Klaus, who quickly fixates his gaze on the ground.</p><p>“Come now, Diego,” Evelynn says. “We’re all adults here. We can behave ourselves. I know you’re like me, and I know your powers are probably exhausted right now.”</p><p>Diego schools his face into a neutral expression, but she’s right. He’s not sure he can curve a knife accurately enough to hit Evelynn instead of Five, especially when he can’t look directly at her. A sideways glance at Klaus’s trembling fingers confirms that Klaus won’t be pulling ghosts out of his ass any time soon, either.</p><p>But as Diego’s hand subconsciously moves to grab a knife at his belt, he realizes with a cold, sinking feeling that he used all of his knives in the fight before. <em> Idiot! </em> he chastises himself. </p><p>“But luckily for you,” Evelynn continues, “I’ve also used up all of my power.” She sighs. “Designing a labyrinth of pain really takes it out of me - who knew?”</p><p>Diego can’t stop the scoff from bursting out of his mouth. “Right, it’s not like you’re in a position to lie to us or anything.”</p><p>He can hear the pout in her voice. “Why would I lie to the only man who’s ever kept his promise to me?”</p><p>Diego keeps his eyes on Five, but he smiles dryly. “Maybe because that promise was to kill you?”</p><p>He sees her shoulders shift, as though she shrugged. “A minor detail. I’m more interested in hearing what your plan is to save this little boy - this <em> Five</em>.”</p><p>“No idea, but I’m guessing it starts with getting rid of you,” Diego says.</p><p>“We didn’t really have time to flesh it out,” Klaus confesses.</p><p>“Wait, <em> I </em> know what it is,” Evelynn says, her tone brightening. “You think you can break him out of my illusion like you did with the addict.”</p><p>“Hey,” Klaus protests weakly.</p><p>“I can freely enter and exit the illusion when I want - but you can only enter the illusion by touching him, and you can only leave by getting the dreamer to willingly wake up, which is what I imagine you did last time,” Evelynn says. “But that was a weak illusion - one he’d only been in for seconds, not hours. I’m afraid Five’s dream is a bit more . . . complex.”</p><p>“Why are you telling us this?” Diego says through gritted teeth.</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” Arrogance slithers around her words like a serpent. “Because he’s already dead.”</p><p>Diego’s heart freezes. Klaus makes a choked sound.</p><p>“Well.” Another shrug. “Not yet, I suppose. But soon.” He watches one of her fingers idly trace its way down Five’s cheek and finds himself comparing the digit’s size to the marks on Five’s throat. Not a match. “An unfortunate side effect of my powers is death. Most of my works of art can only make it an hour before succumbing. But <em> him </em> -” she giggles, delighted. “We’re well past one hour and his heart’s still beating.”</p><p>“So there’s still time to save him,” Diego says, not entirely sure why he has to say that out loud. Maybe it helps ground him.</p><p>Evelynn titters. “I <em> suppose</em>. But you’ll have to find him <em> and </em> wake him up before his body shuts down, and, considering the maze he’s made in there, I highly doubt you’ll be able to.”</p><p>“What do you mean, ‘<em>he’s </em> made?’” Diego says, tone sharp.</p><p>“Ah, yes. That’s something my disciples often misunderstand about my power,” Evelynn says, removing her finger from Five’s face. “I don’t <em> create </em> illusions. At least, not by myself. I only use what’s already in their heads. Their minds dredge up the content, and I simply . . . nudge it in the right direction.”</p><p>“You use your powers on your own men?” Diego asks.</p><p>“Of course,” Evelynn says, sounding amused. “Why else do you think they follow me?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Klaus mutters, “maybe because they’re insane?”</p><p>Evelynn leans forward on the back of Five’s chair, and Diego quickly aims his gaze at Five’s shoes. “That’s also true, but most don’t realize until I’ve shown them.”</p><p>“What does that mean?” Diego bites out.</p><p>“For example,” Evelynn says, “I showed one girl what she wanted more than anything in the world. She didn’t realize that was what she wanted until it was laid out in front of her.”</p><p>“What did you show her?” Diego says.</p><p>He hears the grin in her voice. “I showed her killing her fiancé. And the next night, she did.”</p><p>“That’s <em> awful</em>,” Klaus breathes.</p><p>“Not to everyone,” Evelynn says.</p><p>Diego takes a step forward. Maybe he’s weaponless, but it seems like she is, too, and he figures he can take her in hand-to-hand combat, as long as he never looks at her eyes. He has no reason to believe she’s telling the truth about the time limit for Five, but Five’s pale face does little to prove otherwise.</p><p>Then Evelynn shrieks at an ear-splitting level, and he sees her hands jerk up as though to clutch at her face.</p><p>Diego’s eyes are yanked upward, and he remembers too late why he was keeping his gaze on the floor.</p><p>Evelynn’s wide eyes are staring directly into his, her lips twisted into a triumphant grin. “Got you,” she murmurs, her eyes starting to turn blue.</p><p>
  <em> Bang! </em>
</p><p>Evelynn staggers back, the light in her eyes dimming as a gasp wrenches from her throat. Another gunshot fires through the air, and a second bullet slams into her stomach, next to the rapidly growing bloodstain on her shirt.</p><p>Evelynn looks at Diego again, an expression of surprise instead of victory on her face this time. “Oh,” she says, almost sadly.</p><p>Then a third bullet tears through her skull, and she collapses.</p><p>Diego turns, almost in slow-motion, to see Klaus aiming a smoking gun in Evelynn’s direction with shaky hands.</p><p>“Huh,” Diego says dumbly. “I didn’t know you knew how to shoot a gun.”</p><p>Klaus carefully places the gun on the floor like it’s a snake about to bite him. “That was the first time.” He avoids looking at the bloody corpse across the room. “And last, hopefully.”</p><p>Diego is shocked that Klaus thought to pick up one of the criminal’s guns, and flabbergasted that Klaus actually ended up using it. Klaus had never been a fan of firearms, especially when they were kids.</p><p><em> Maybe he’s changed more than I realized? </em> Diego thinks, studying his least-sober brother’s solemn face. </p><p>He uneasily shelves that in the back of his mind and turns to face Five again. The tiny assassin hasn’t moved since they entered the room, and his eyes are still glowing.</p><p>“So . . .” Klaus says, moving to stand closer to Five. “I guess killing her doesn’t break him out of it.”</p><p>“We have to go in his head,” Diego says. “Like I did with you.”</p><p>“I can’t wait to see what totally safe and fluffy things are in Five’s brain.” Klaus sighs. “Is it too much to ask for a rainbow in there?”</p><p>“Only one way to find out.” Diego grabs Five’s upper arm at the same time Klaus clutches Five’s hand.</p><p>
  <em>We're coming, Five.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"The Kill," by Thirty Seconds to Mars</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. White Light Fades to Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ahhhhh I absolutely loved the comments on the last chapter. Thank you all so much for taking time to read this thing that is quickly spiraling into a much longer story than I originally anticipated lol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1>
<h3>White Light Fades to Red</h3>
<p>When Diego opens his eyes, it’s just as dark as when he closed them. He blinks a couple of times, waiting for his vision to adjust, but it remains completely black.</p>
<p>Diego’s never really been afraid of the dark, but this all-encompassing blackness is disconcerting, especially for someone whose powers primarily utilize his vision. He hears labored breathing next to him. “Klaus?” he says. He thought he spoke quietly, but his voice seems to be intensified by the darkness. “You good?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, no, I’m great,” Klaus says, still breathing somewhat heavily. “I’m just not particularly fond of the dark.” He laughs, although his cadence is one octave higher than sane. “I never liked what happened in the dark when I was a kid.”</p>
<p>Diego isn’t interested in touching <em> that</em>, although it doesn’t require a leap of intellect to assume it has to do with Dad. “I think we’re in a room. Our voices are too loud for this to be a big, open space.” Diego reaches out a hand to the side. When he doesn’t encounter anything, he takes a tentative step in that direction, stretching his arm out even farther.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” Klaus’s voice is sharp, panicked.</p>
<p>“I’m just looking for the wall,” Diego says calmly. A moment later, his knuckles brush against plaster. Despite having confidently told Klaus that they were in a room, relief surges through him at the contact. Nothing about this situation is normal, so who’s to say they hadn’t been dropped in a never-ending plane of darkness?</p>
<p>Keeping his palm flat against the wall, Diego carefully begins walking forward. There’s got to be a way out of this place - surely they’re not trapped in here forever.</p>
<p><em> Or until Five dies, </em> his mind morbidly reminds him.</p>
<p>His fingers hit the wall running perpendicular to him. Assuming the room is a square, it’s about the size of a walk-in closet. Diego is about to start following this wall around the room when he finally hears it: quick, shallow breaths from the corner he just discovered.</p>
<p>Diego crouches down, and the breathing gets louder. “Five?” he says quietly.</p>
<p>“Where?” he hears Klaus ask, but he ignores the medium for the time being.</p>
<p>The breaths pause. “Diego?” says Five’s voice, although it sounds smaller, younger, than Diego remembers.</p>
<p>“Oh, wow,” Klaus says, his voice growing louder as he slowly makes his way toward them. “That was way easier than expected.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s me,” Diego says. He carefully reaches one hand toward Five’s voice.</p>
<p>It connects with the wall.</p>
<p>Diego’s still puzzling over that when Five’s voice, still coming from right in front of Diego, says, “But you’re dead.”</p>
<p>“I think I’d know if I was dead,” Diego says, sweeping his arm back and forth along the corner, encountering nothing but the walls.</p>
<p>There’s a rustle of fabric, as though Five shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe not.”</p>
<p>“Klaus,” Diego says over his shoulder, “I’ve got bad news. This isn’t Five.”</p>
<p>Klaus stops walking. “What do you mean?”</p>
<p>Diego says, “Remember how in your dream or illusion or whatever I could interact with you but not anything else?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Well, <em> this </em> Five must be part of his illusion, because I can’t touch him.” Diego directs his attention at Not-Five. “Where’s Five?”</p>
<p>“Why do you care?” Not-Five says.</p>
<p>“Because he’s our brother.” That’s the first self-assured thing Diego’s heard Klaus say since they entered Five’s head.</p>
<p>Not-Five laughs. The sound is high-pitched and giggly, like that of a kid’s. “No he’s not. Not anymore.”</p>
<p>“I don’t like this Five very much,” Klaus mutters.</p>
<p>“Where’s Five?” Diego says again.</p>
<p>“He’s in a different room,” Not-Five says. </p>
<p>“How do we get out of here?” Diego presses.</p>
<p>There’s silence for a moment, then Not-Five says in a tone Diego can’t quite place, “You want to leave?”</p>
<p>A footstep sounds from behind Diego. “Diego!” Klaus hisses. “I think I found something!”</p>
<p>“Of course you’ll leave,” Not-Five says, although it sounds like he’s talking to himself. “You always leave in the end.”</p>
<p>“I think there’s a hole in the floor,” Klaus says.</p>
<p>“Or is it me who always leaves?” Not-Five muses in that child-like voice.</p>
<p>Diego steps toward Klaus. “I say we jump down.”</p>
<p>Klaus’s gulp is loud in the darkness. “Yeah, well, you first.”</p>
<p>Not-Five is still rambling in the corner. “You may not be dead yet, but you will be soon. Everybody dies. Everybody dies anyway, but they die quicker around me.” He starts laughing again. “Especially you guys!”</p>
<p>Diego knows this Five isn’t real, but he can’t help but offer anyway, “Come with us.”</p>
<p>Not-Five’s voice is suddenly right behind Diego. “No,” he hisses, and his voice starts to distort, becoming low and guttural. “I prefer the darkness.”</p>
<p>“Diego,” Klaus squeaks.</p>
<p>Diego still can’t see, but he can <em> feel </em> the Five behind him twisting into a larger, malevolent shape. He's pretty sure the illusions can't interact with him, but he doesn't want to stick around to find out. His foot finds the edge of the hole in the floor.</p>
<p>“Don’t leave me!” the thing that used to be Five howls in an unrecognizable scream.</p>
<p>“<em>Go</em>!” Diego roars.</p>
<p>Just as Diego steps into empty space, he hears a tiny puff of breath right next to his ear. “I <em> hate </em>you,” Five’s too-young voice sobs.</p>
<p>Then Diego is falling.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It doesn’t hurt when Klaus hits the ground, even though he felt like he was falling for minutes, not seconds. The first thing he’s aware of is the light, which eases his shuddering heartbeat significantly. The darkness was bad enough even <em> before </em> adding in the monster the fake Five turned into. But maybe it was for the best that Klaus couldn’t see the creature his supposed brother became.</p>
<p>Regardless, there’s light now, which means he can see the room he’s standing in. Piles of money are stacked along the sides, but it isn’t until Klaus sees the half-open, circular, steel door that he realizes they’re in a vault.</p>
<p>“I remember this,” Diego breathes.</p>
<p>A man is standing in a corner of the room, a gun in his hands. Facing him are two small forms, one of which Klaus recognizes immediately. The other one . . . “Oh!” he says. “It’s Little Diego!”</p>
<p>It’s been so long since Klaus has seen any of his siblings wearing domino masks, and yet they seem to fit onto Five and Diego’s faces seamlessly, almost as if the two of them would look naked without them.</p>
<p>“This is from that day at the bank,” Diego says.</p>
<p>Klaus rolls his eyes. “You’ll have to be a tad more specific, brother mine.”</p>
<p>“You don’t remember?” Diego says, his eyes fixed on the figure of Five. “It’s the day Five almost got killed.”</p>
<p>That tickles something in Klaus’s memory - then it clicks into place. “Yeah, okay, this is when you both ran ahead of us into the vault.”</p>
<p>“Luther’s mad at you,” Little Diego says.</p>
<p>“Stay back!” the man yells, pointing the gun at Little Diego. Just as he fires, Five is there in a flash of blue, his small hands lifting the gun up.</p>
<p>Little Diego drops to the ground, blood splattered across the wall behind him and a third, black eye in the center of his forehead.</p>
<p>Klaus flinches. “Hey, what the hell? I thought this was a memory!”</p>
<p>Diego’s staring at his own tiny corpse, his brow furrowed. “This isn’t what happened,” he says, unnecessarily, in Klaus’s opinion, because obviously Diego didn’t die when he was thirteen.</p>
<p>“<em>Diego</em>!” Five screams.</p>
<p>Klaus blinks, and suddenly Five, the domino mask gone, is the one holding the gun, and the body on the floor is adult Diego.</p>
<p>Klaus whips his head to the side and nearly shudders in relief at the sight of Diego still standing next to him.</p>
<p>Five slides to the ground, his fingers clutching at his hair and tears spilling onto his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” the boy chokes out, rocking back and forth on his knees. “I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>“Klaus,” Diego murmurs. “Let’s go.”</p>
<p>Klaus can’t tear his eyes away from his sobbing brother. “But, Five -”</p>
<p>“It’s not him,” Diego says.</p>
<p>Klaus doesn’t know how Diego can be so certain of that, but he reluctantly follows Diego to the vault door. As Diego steps through the doorway into the next sure-to-be-pleasant room, Klaus looks back at Five, whose wrenching sobs shake his whole body, and feels something lurch in his chest. <em> Fuck you, Evelynn, </em> he thinks viciously. <em> I’m glad you’re dead. </em></p>
<p>When he looks forward again, Diego is nowhere to be seen.</p>
<p>“Diego?” </p>
<p>There’s no answer.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” he says.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"City of the Dead," by Eurielle</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. No Heroes, Villains, One to Blame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Raise your hand if you started a fic purely for the purpose of Five-whump and it turned into a full-blown character analysis of Five with an actual plot.<br/>No one? Just me? Cool cool cool.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>No Heroes, Villains, One to Blame</h3><p>Of <em> course </em> Klaus would get lost the second Diego took his eyes off of the medium. Diego walked through the vault door, and when he turned around, the circular door was replaced by a closed, wooden door, and Klaus was gone.</p><p>“My siblings are all <em> morons</em>,” Diego mutters to himself, because it’s either call them names or come to terms with the fact that two of his brothers are now missing.</p><p>But Five has to take precedence, because if Evelynn was to be believed, he doesn’t have much time left.</p><p>The room Diego entered wasn’t immediately familiar to him, because it’s darker, larger, and more ominous than he remembers. There are no windows, so the only light comes from a lone lamp in the corner, which barely provides any luminescence at all. But when he sees the tall, perfectly poised figure standing in the center and the much smaller figure of Five, he realizes he’s in the office of Reginald Hargreeves.</p><p>Reginald is also larger than he remembers, but no less ominous. The man looms over Diego and Five, who are enveloped by Reginald’s impossibly huge shadow. Despite the years since the last time he’s ever felt fear of his (dearly) departed father, Diego has to fight the urge to shrink back.</p><p>Five has no such luck. His tiny form, made even smaller by the stretched-out caricature of his father, cringes against Reginald’s flinty stare.</p><p>And, with the same confidence he had in the vault, Diego knows this is not his brother, but he reaches out a hand anyway, only for it to pass straight through Five’s body.</p><p>“Number Five.” Reginald’s voice is as cold as his gaze. “I presume you know why you are here.”</p><p>“Because I messed up,” Five whispers.</p><p>Reginald backhands Five across the face. “Louder!”</p><p>Quick, hot anger spikes in Diego’s chest, overshadowing the dark coil of child-like fear that manifested the moment he stepped into this room, and he lurches forward to push Five behind himself before he remembers he can’t.</p><p>“Because I messed up!” Five says.</p><p>“No.” Disgust. “A <em> mess-up </em> is something a child makes. A <em> mess-up </em> implies something that can be fixed. You have failed <em> astronomically</em>.”</p><p>Five practically wilts.</p><p>“Leave him alone,” Diego snarls.</p><p>Reginald’s eyes never leave Five. “I don’t recall granting you permission to speak, Number Two. Not only did Number Five fail to time travel correctly not <em> once</em>, but <em> twice</em>, but he also was too weak to prevent his family from being killed multiple times, so no, I do not believe I will ‘leave him alone.’”</p><p>“I didn’t know,” Five says, his voice quiet and - uncharacteristically - beaten. “I didn’t know what would happen when I left.”</p><p>Reginald scoffs. “That’s irrelevant, because, had you known, you would have left regardless. You only cared about proving me wrong.”</p><p>“He <em> saved </em> us,” Diego says, aware he’s arguing with a hallucination but unable to stop himself. “He’s the reason we’re alive.”</p><p>Reginald snorts derisively. “There’s a reason I never praised you for your intellect, Number Two. He is the reason you all died. Preventing a death that is your fault to begin with is hardly ‘saving.’ He is a coward who cannot face the consequences born of his own actions.”</p><p>“That’s not true,” Five says, but he sounds as though he hardly believes himself.</p><p>“You,” Reginald says, disdain carved into every line on his face, “are my single greatest disappointment.” He sighs and turns away. “I regret ever finding you.”</p><p>This version of Five was already trembling when Diego walked in, so Diego turns, expecting to see tears. Five only stares resolutely, blankly, ahead, which is somehow so much worse. </p><p>Diego can’t stand to be here anymore. This room is too real, too personal - it hits too close to home. He strides toward the door of his father’s study.</p><p>As he opens the door, two things strike him. The first is a question: <em> How much of this room is an illusion and how much is a memory? </em></p><p>The second is the observation that one corner of Reginald’s office has begun to peel away, leaving a nightmarishly black hole in its place that fills Diego with a sense of undeniable dread.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Klaus steps through the vault door cautiously. “Diego?” he says again. </p><p>The room he walks into is small and dimly lit. A single window displays the sliver of moon peeking out from behind clouds, which illuminates the bed in the corner. The bundle of blankets on the bed rise and fall in a steady motion, but Klaus doesn’t feel the need to check who’s underneath it, because, first of all, it’s obviously not Diego, and secondly, he’s more concerned about the old man completely drenched in blood standing near the bed.</p><p>The man, who might be in his sixties, although it’s hard to tell past the gore, stares at Klaus silently.</p><p>“Hey, hi, hello,” Klaus says, tossing a half-hearted wave in the man’s direction, trying to belie his nervousness. “You, uh, wouldn’t have happened to see a knife-wielding Batman pass through here, would you? Or a tiny, sarcastic psycho?”</p><p>The bloody man tilts his head to the side. “Why are you looking for Diego?” he says in a voice husky enough to make Klaus’s own throat parched.</p><p>Klaus blinks. He hadn’t expected any response, let alone that one. “You know Diego?”</p><p>“I knew him,” the man says. He takes a step toward the bed, which is when Klaus notices the syringe in his hand. </p><p>“Hey,” Klaus says sharply, the invisible hole in his arm suddenly burning, “what are you doing with that?”</p><p>The man stops and blinks eyes ringed with blood at him. “I’m going to kill her, obviously.”</p><p><em> These aren’t real people, it doesn’t matter, </em> Klaus tries to remind himself, but he can’t keep his mouth shut. “Well, what if we <em> don’t </em>do that?”</p><p>“But -” the man says, looking confused - “I have to save you guys.” His eyes harden. “Whatever it takes.”</p><p>Eyes that are so old. So tired. So familiar.</p><p>“Five?” Klaus says quietly.</p><p>The old man covered in blood - the old Five - talks as though he never heard Klaus. “Whatever it takes. That’s what I promised all those years ago.” He looks back at the bed.</p><p>The room seems to darken, and even if it’s only in Klaus’s imagination, he shudders, suddenly very afraid of the figure in front of him. “We’re already saved, remember?” Klaus says, desperate for reasons he can’t identify to get Five to walk away from the bed. “You already saved us.”</p><p>Five sighs, the noise sounding as weary as he looks. “How would you know? You’re dead.” He sweeps back the covers, revealing a woman with shoulder-length brown hair, peacefully sleeping. </p><p>Vanya.</p><p>“Don’t!” Klaus screeches as Five positions the syringe next to her throat. He stumbles forward, his hands outstretched. </p><p>He passes through the blood-stained old man, who pushes the needle into her neck and depresses the plunger.</p><p>Vanya’s eyes fly open. She grasps at her throat, gurgling, eyes bulging, foam spilling past her lips. For several long, horrifying moments, her face grows white and her lips turn blue, and then she stops moving.</p><p>“Whatever it takes,” Five says again, his back to Klaus, his voice cracking on a sob.</p><p>Klaus battles the urge to retch. “How many times are you going to have to watch us die?” he asks, trying to keep his own voice from breaking. He knows this isn’t the real Five, he knows these words are probably meaningless, but - “<em>Please</em>, wake up.”</p><p>Five doesn’t turn around. “What do you think I was trying to do all those years alone?” He sighs, tilts his head back. “But I never could.”</p><p>“You can this time,” Klaus says. “We’re here to help you this time.”</p><p>Five’s hand clenches into a fist. “I’m going to need more than ghosts this time, Klaus.”</p><p>Klaus finally turns away from the vision of his pale, dead sister, wiping a hand across his eyes. He’s not sure if his tears are for the corpse or the murderer.</p><p>The only way out looks like a set of stairs leading to a doorway shrouded in shadow, so he starts moving in that direction. “You’re getting closer,” Five says suddenly.</p><p>Klaus pauses. “To what?”</p><p>“To him.” A long, slow breath. “To me.”</p><p>Klaus nearly trips in his haste to climb the stairs. He stops before the doorway and looks back at the blood-splattered old man. “What will I find?”</p><p>“Hurry,” is all Five says as the bed and the body on it start to fragment into a black nothingness that leaves Klaus cold.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The room beyond Reginald’s office is warm and bright, a contrast in every way to the dingy, uninviting study Diego just left. Which is odd, seeing as this place is in the room of an abandoned, decimated building. He’s outdoors, but it’s not like any environment he’s seen before - the sky is impossible to see past a murky haze of smoke that rests unsettlingly close to his head, and the ground is a layer of broken asphalt, debris, and ash. There’s nothing blue or green in sight. </p><p>Still, Diego can’t help but feel <em> good </em> here.</p><p>A flap of torn, dirty fabric hangs where the doorway used to be, and it flutters as a figure passes behind it. “Diego!” a feminine voice with the barest hint of a Southern drawl says. A hand sweeps the curtain to the side, and a tall woman steps into the shell of a room. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”</p><p>The woman, who’s bald and has bright, intelligent eyes, extends a hand toward Diego and smiles. “The name’s Dolores.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Stole the Show," by Parson James</p><p>Yeah, so maybe I imagine Dolores with a twinge of a Southern accent. FIGHT ME.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Pretend You Know This Song, Everybody</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for your kind comments!<br/>Is there an ending in sight? Probably. Does this author know what it entails anymore? Heck no.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1>
<h3>Pretend You Know This Song, Everybody</h3>
<p>Klaus stands in the dining room at the academy, watching his family from fifteen years ago eat a meal in total silence. Well, total silence from the children, that is. The lecturer of the day drones on in a monotonous buzz. Reginald sits at the head of the table, quietly carving the hunk of meat on his plate, and the rest of the prepubescent Hargreeves are obediently following their father’s example.</p>
<p>Until Little Five stabs his knife into the table.</p>
<p>Then Klaus remembers this particular day, this particular meal, with vivid clarity. By the time Klaus tunes back into the conversation, Reginald is rambling about acorns.</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t get it,” Little Five says.</p>
<p><em> Same</em>, Klaus thinks.</p>
<p>“Hence the reason you’re not ready,” Reginald says, setting his glass of wine down.</p>
<p>Five looks at Little Vanya, who shakes her head quickly, desperation tightening her features.</p>
<p>“I’m not afraid,” Five says, looking back at his father.</p>
<p>“Fear isn’t the issue. The effects it might have on your body, even on your mind, are far too unpredictable.” Reginald throws his silverware down in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. “Now, I forbid you to talk about this anymore.”</p>
<p>Little Five looks at Little Vanya again. To Klaus’s surprise, Five sighs. </p>
<p>And sits back down at his seat.</p>
<p>Little Vanya smiles, relief smoothing out the nervousness in her face.</p>
<p>Little Diego, who could never keep his mouth shut (a shared quality between him and Klaus), mutters, “Be a little m-m-more dramatic next time, why don’t you.”</p>
<p>“Silence,” Reginald barks.</p>
<p>Klaus blinks, and suddenly the Little Hargreeves are now Teen Hargreeves sitting at the table. Teen Allison has had her first kiss, Teen Ben has gotten better at controlling his power, Teen Luther has issues with Teen Diego and vice versa, and Teen Klaus has experienced withdrawal for the first time - although, is it just Klaus’s imagination, or does Teen Klaus look a little less sickly than Klaus remembers being? Klaus doesn’t recall anything Teen Vanya did - or even Little Vanya, for that matter.</p>
<p>And Teen Five is . . . there. At the table. Eating with the rest of his siblings. He’s taller, although still lanky, and his cheekbones are a little more defined, but it’s definitely Five.</p>
<p>It’s not total silence from the Hargreeves this time - the lecturer over the radio still prattles on, and there’s no full-blown conversation, but there’s an occasional, “Pass the salt, please,” and, at one point, Teen Klaus whispers something to Ben, who laughs.</p>
<p>Klaus looks at Reginald, waiting for the reprimand and proceeding punishment, but the man merely casts a stern glance at the boys, who mutter their apologies, even though both are still smiling.</p>
<p>That - that <em> never </em> happened.</p>
<p>Vanya slips a piece of paper to Five underneath the table. Five surreptitiously unfolds it, his eyes rapidly flitting from side to side as he reads it. His gaze flicks up to Allison, then Luther.</p>
<p>Five snorts loudly. He yanks his fist up to stifle the noise a second too late.</p>
<p>Reginald sighs. “Children.” But that’s all he says. No scoldings, no threats, no punishments.</p>
<p>Teen Vanya beams, and Klaus swears she’s nearly glowing, her cheeks rosy with pride at having made Five laugh.</p>
<p>Klaus tries to remember if she ever smiled like that when they were growing up and can’t.</p>
<p>Then the children are in their twenties, and this time, there is no lecturer. Young Luther and Young Allison are discussing something Klaus can’t hear; Young Klaus, Young Diego and Young Ben (Ben - Klaus’s heart does something funny in his chest when he sees Ben at an age he never reached) are sniggering at something else; and Young Vanya has moved her chair from the end of the table to the side of it, next to Young Five. She’s showing him a song from her music book, walking him through the measures with her finger. Her other hand tucks long locks of hair behind her ear.</p>
<p>And Five, who looks so much (younger) older than he ever has before, follows Vanya’s finger with eyes shadowed by scrunched eyebrows. It’s the same look he gets when he’s solving an advanced math problem.</p>
<p>Reginald Hargreeves, still seated at the head of the table, looks on and chews his food in silence.</p>
<p>But it’s not disapproving silence.</p>
<p>In fact, even as Klaus watches, the corner of Reginald’s mouth quirks upward.</p>
<p>“No way,” Klaus breathes.</p>
<p>Klaus blinks again, and now the head of the table is empty, and Adult Allison is setting a cake on the table. Seven candles flicker around the edge of the chocolate frosting. There’s no lecturer, no awkward silence. The air hums with chatter and good-natured ribbing. Adult Vanya’s chair has officially been squeezed onto the side that now houses Adult Five, Adult Ben, and Adult Diego. Five and Ben are discussing something way too scientific for Klaus to follow while Luther and Adult Klaus are loudly bickering with Vanya and Diego about - music?</p>
<p>“Have you actually listened to the lyrics of any screamo songs, though?” Vanya says to the two sitting on the other side of the table.</p>
<p>Luther snorts. “Maybe if I could understand what they were saying, I’d appreciate the genre, but I <em> can’t</em>, and that’s my whole point.”</p>
<p>Adult Klaus props an elbow up on the table. “Music should be relaxing - I don’t listen to music to gain <em> more </em> anxiety.”</p>
<p>Diego rolls his eyes. “Of course the hippie thinks music should be ‘peace on Earth’ and all that crap.” He jabs a finger at Luther and Klaus. “Music should pump you up! Make you feel alive! And that’s exactly what screamo does!”</p>
<p>Vanya grimaces. “Not exactly the way I would put it - I would argue that all music should make you feel <em> something</em>, regardless of the emotion. But, as I was saying, a lot of screamo songs actually have really powerful lyrics.”</p>
<p>“I’ll believe it when I hear it,” says Luther. Then he leans forward and whispers, “Which will be never.”</p>
<p>Allison sighs. “Are you guys about done? The cake’s ready.”</p>
<p>“Oh, weird,” Ben says, glancing at the dessert. “I thought we were turning thirty-one, not seven.”</p>
<p>Allison smacks him on the back of the head. “There’s one candle for each of us, asshole.”</p>
<p>“Forgive him, Allison,” Five says, patting Ben on the arm consolingly. “Problem solving has always been a little difficult for him.”</p>
<p>Ben tries to scowl past his grin. “Screw you, dude.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Luther says, looking at each of his siblings. “Who would like to do the honor this year?”</p>
<p>“Ooh, me, me,” Adult Klaus says, stretching his arm out directly in front of Luther’s face. “Pick me.”</p>
<p>Ben tilts his head, an expression of concentration on his face. “I think I heard someone say . . . Five?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely not,” Five deadpans.</p>
<p>Diego leans back in his chair. “I second that. I can’t remember the last time Five did it.”</p>
<p>“I agree.” Allison glances at Luther, her eyebrows raised. Adult Klaus’s pleas grow more frantic in the background.</p>
<p>Luther nods, and Allison grins, almost wickedly. “That’s majority, so it’s decided. Five, it’s your turn.”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“C’mon, Five,” Vanya says, nudging his shoulder, laughter in her eyes. “You know you want to.”</p>
<p>Five cuts her a look of pure disgust. “I definitely do not. We’re all way too old to still be doing this, anyway.”</p>
<p>Vanya’s eyes flare blue, and the birthday cake gently slides across the table, coming to a rest directly in front of Five. She smiles at him sweetly.</p>
<p>Adult Five huffs in annoyance. “Fine.” He leans forward and blows out the candles.</p>
<p>As the smoke dissipates in the air, Klaus’s heart throbs in a bitter, discordant rhythm that makes his whole body ache. His chest feels too tight. His skin feels oddly uncomfortable, as though it’s no longer his - like he’s an imposter who’s borrowed this body for too long. He is not a part of this magical, radiant world. None of them are.</p>
<p>But maybe they could have been, and with that realization comes the knowledge that this is, perhaps, the worst room of all.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dolores,” Diego says slowly, not taking the offered hand. For one, he won’t be able to touch it, and for another, he has yet to meet a hallucination from Five he’s wanted to shake hands with. “As in the mannequin Five’s obsessed with?”</p>
<p>Dolores, who’s oddly beautiful, oddly resplendent, gracefully withdraws her hand. “There’s certainly a more flattering way to put that, but yes.” She smiles at him, her gaze warm. “I know so much about you, Diego, although I have a feeling you know very little about me. There’s so much I want to say to you - so much he’s wanted to say for so long. But I’m afraid we don’t have time for that.”</p>
<p>“Listen,” Diego says, “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you’re not real.”</p>
<p>Dolores holds up a finger. “Not quite true: I don’t <em> exist</em>. I am, however, very real to your brother.” She gestures with one hand at their surroundings. “And, as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, Five’s mind is the one running the show right now.”</p>
<p>Diego blinks as he tries to process this conversation. “You’re not as . . . mannequin-y as I thought you would be.”</p>
<p>Dolores levels a sobering gaze at him. “I’m whatever Five needs me to be.” There’s a protectiveness in her tone that’s not quite threatening, but stern. Immovable.</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s neat,” Diego says, “but nothing I’ve met so far seems like it has Five’s best interests at heart.”</p>
<p>Dolores frowns. “That’s Evelynn’s doing. Her power is spreading like a poison through his mind.”</p>
<p>Diego eyes the wrecked structure they’re standing in. “Then why does this place feel different? Why are you still acting . . . normal?” Can a completely made-up entity even behave “normally”? </p>
<p>“The poison hasn’t reached me yet.” Dolores takes a seat on a faded, ratty armchair that might have once been purple and crosses one leg over another. “Five’s mind has always protected me to the best of its abilities.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>Dolores’s smile looks sad. “Because otherwise he has to face the fact that I don’t exist outside of it.” She sighs. “But it’s only a matter of time before the poison reaches me. I’m the only part of his head not yet tainted by Evelynn’s power.”</p>
<p>“The room I just left,” Diego says. “It looked like it was starting to fall apart.”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Those calm, serious eyes turn toward him again. “Five is drawing closer to death, and, as a result, his maze is starting to unravel.”</p>
<p>Diego crosses his arms over his chest. She definitely seems more level-headed than any of the other hallucinations he’s seen, but he can’t help but argue. “I’ve seen Five - well, versions of Five - and none of them looked like they were dying.”</p>
<p>“The Five’s you’ve met are echoes of the real Five.” Dolores cocks her head to the side. “Or maybe ‘projections’ is the better term? They’re what Five views as the worst parts of himself.” Her eyes bore into his. “Needy, helpless, weak, insecure - to name a few.”</p>
<p>Diego frowns. “I never thought he was any of those things.”</p>
<p>Dolores laughs lightly, in a way that makes it clear she’s not mocking him. “He’s human, darling - he’s all of those things. He’s just a better actor than most.” One of her fingers traces a pattern on the armrest of the chair. “Good enough to fool himself, even, but not me. Never me.”</p>
<p>Diego’s not even going to try to figure that one out, so he moves on to what he’s interested in. “Do you know where Five is?”</p>
<p>“Not exactly,” she says. “I know he’s close, but I haven’t been able to talk to him since <em> she </em> intervened.” She nods her head at the doorway she came through. “Leave through that door. It’ll take you to the next area.”</p>
<p>“Why haven’t <em> you </em> been looking for him then?” Diego says.</p>
<p>Dolores shrugs. “I’m land-locked. Just like any other parts of Five’s mind you’ve seen, I can’t travel through the maze the way you can. You’re from the outside.” She grins ruefully. “The rules don’t apply to you.”</p>
<p>A silhouette of a person appears behind the strip of cloth in the doorway.</p>
<p>Dolores straightens in her chair, her eyes narrowed. “Did you not come alone?”</p>
<p>Diego pretends relief didn’t sag his shoulders the moment he saw the figure. “No - that’s just the sibling I didn’t supervise well enough.” He raises his voice, tries to make it sound gruff instead of pleased. “Took you long enough, Klaus!”</p>
<p>The curtain is pushed to the side.</p>
<p>Diego’s blood runs cold.</p>
<p>Evelynn grins. “What, am I too late?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Bang," by AJR</p>
<p>When I originally wrote the scene where Five leaves the dinner table, I didn't have access to the show, so I just wrote a brief summary of what I remembered as a placeholder. It went as follows:</p>
<p>“I want to time travel,” Five suddenly says.<br/>“No,” says Reggie.<br/>Five slams the table. “But I’m ready.”<br/>“No,” says Reggie. “You’re still an acorn.”<br/>“Maybe I like acorns,” Five says.<br/>Reggie sighs. “Please eat your food.”<br/>“Fuck you, Dad,” Five says, raising both middle fingers at Reggie as he walks toward the front door.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Losing My Grip in the Grey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Merry (late) Christmas!<br/>Sorry this chapter took me so long to write, but, in other news, if you have not read the fic "Creeping Towards Extinction" by VIKAN, you absolutely have to do that right this second. It's one of the best things I've read on this website. The writing is muy perfecto, it's got Five whump, and what more do you need in a story, amirite?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1>
<h3>Losing My Grip in the Grey</h3>
<p>Five blinks and can feel the tiny icicles clinging to each of his eyelashes scrape against his cheekbones. Every breath he expels dies in the still, frigid air before it has time to settle into its smoky form. His bones feel as though they’ve been replaced with ice - as though, at the slightest pressure, they’ll shatter into a million pieces. His skin should be numb, but it stings with a heat that opposes the grey snowflakes drifting from a lead sky. The air is so cold it burns his throat raw every time he sucks in a shuddering breath. His heart feebly pounds against his aching rib cage, throbbing in a constant clockwork of pain.</p>
<p>He thinks he’s dying.</p>
<p>He thought he knew what dying felt like. He thought dying felt like vomiting not only the last meager meal you managed to scavenge but also the blood pooled in your stomach as the humid atmosphere presses against your skin like a warm, damp comforter, or like burying the bodies of the only people you’ve ever cared about as fire crackles and mocks you, reminding you that you’re the last person on Earth. But dying is colder than that.</p>
<p>And slower.</p>
<p>He doesn’t remember when he first slumped against the side of a dilapidated building, but it’s been enough time for snow to coat his shoulders and head and nearly bury his legs. He was walking, before that. He had no destination, because he never had a destination in the first apocalypse, so why should he have one now, in this apocalypse? He was merely placing one foot in front of the other in order to outpace the shambling, frozen corpses of his siblings. Although, they weren’t always frozen. Sometimes they were burnt and ashy. Sometimes they were riddled with bullet holes.</p>
<p>But they were always cold.</p>
<p>He hasn’t seen any of his family members since he wearily slid down the brick wall, but he has a feeling that’s only temporary. He’s waiting for a frigid hand to clamp around his wrist and a voice, hoarse from crying, or maybe screaming, to say, “Five, help me.” Sometimes it’s Allison. Sometimes it’s Klaus.</p>
<p>But they’re always cold.</p>
<p>He knows they’re not real. Every time their icy fingernails scratch his skin, he reminds himself, <em> They’re not real. </em> Every time his name crawls out of their gaping mouths, he reminds himself, <em> They’re not real. </em> They can’t be real because they’re dead.</p>
<p>But they’re always <em> so cold</em>.</p>
<p>Five is no stranger to seeing things that aren’t there. The apocalypse has always lurked in the corners of his mind, never truly gone, never truly absent. It makes its reappearance at any given time, but most often in the quiet. When noise flees and leaves behind that roaring, monstrous silence, when enough snow has blanketed the ground to muffle all other sounds, the apocalypse yawns and stretches its stiff limbs. It awakens. And that is when Five is left squinting against acrid smoke and stinging snow and burning ash and he sees the crumbling ruins of the academy in front of him and suddenly he’s thirteen years old again and his breath lodges in his throat because everyone is dead and he’s </p>
<p>all</p>
<p>alone.</p>
<p>But this time the apocalypse is awake and <em> real </em> and tearing into Five again, eager to hack the skin from his bones and cleave the brain from his skull and claw the heart from his chest because it got most of those the last time around, but it wants <em> all </em> of him and it won’t stop until he has nothing left. </p>
<p>He can’t even muster the energy to hate the apocalypse this time around. He already has nothing left, but that wasn’t the apocalypse’s fault. All the apocalypse is doing is killing someone who’s already dead.</p>
<p>The apocalypse is real, but he knows his siblings are as imaginary as his hope of surviving this a second time. At least, he tells himself he knows that.</p>
<p>To be honest, he’s pretty sure he’s losing his already tenuous grip on reality.</p>
<p>To be honest, he doesn’t care anymore. If reality is the apocalypse, he’d like nothing more than to bury it and the world alongside his siblings. Except he clearly didn’t bury his family deep enough, because they keep coming back. Did he scrape shallow graves in the icy (ashy) rubble for them in this apocalypse or the last one? Did he haul debris on top of their bodies as tears burned (froze) on his cheeks? Did he go back to those graves and stare at them for <em> hours</em>, thinking of absolutely nothing at all, as the cold (heat) penetrated his bones? He can’t remember. He doesn’t want to remember.</p>
<p>Something stirs in the snow next to Five, and he turns tired eyes toward his blood-splattered brother. <em> They found me, </em> Five thinks. It’s happened often enough by now that it should fill him with less horror when he sees their glassy stare, but the dismay never lessens.</p>
<p>“How many times have you killed us now?” Diego asks, blood spilling from his lips and painting the grey snow beneath him black.</p>
<p>Five closes his heavy eyelids but is unable to escape that dead, accusing glare. “I don’t know,” he says.</p>
<p><em> Liar, </em> the apocalypse cackles.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Dolores’s face turns stony. “Evelynn,” she says, her tone clipped, as she rises to her feet.</p>
<p>Evelynn practically twirls into the makeshift room. “The one and only.”</p>
<p>“You’re dead,” Diego says as the initial shock of seeing the woman leeches from his system. “I watched you die.”</p>
<p>Evelynn hums, shrugging, her gaze roving around the wrecked room. “Maybe I did die, and I’m only a part of Five’s imagination. Maybe this fragment is all that’s left of me. Or -” she grins, her teeth sharp - “maybe I didn’t die.”</p>
<p>Dolores rolls her eyes. “Could you be any more dramatic?”</p>
<p>Evelynn’s smile turns downward just the slightest, but then she claps her hands together, dispelling the almost-frown. “There’s so <em> much </em> of him in this place! I can’t believe it took me so long to find it!” She looks at Dolores. “No, wait - there’s so much of him in <em> you</em>.”</p>
<p>Dolores folds her arms across her chest and remains silent.</p>
<p>“<em>Ugh</em>,” Evelynn says. “See, Diego, this is why you’re my favorite. No one else knows how to hold a conversation.”</p>
<p>“You <em> can’t </em> be alive,” Diego says. “You would’ve killed us by now.” Their actual, physical bodies are just standing in front of Five’s, aren’t they?</p>
<p>Laughter dances in Evelynn’s eyes. “How do you know I haven’t?”</p>
<p>“Diego,” Dolores says calmly, her eyes fixed on Evelynn, “she’s baiting you. You have to leave and find Five.”</p>
<p>Evelynn giggles. “What makes you think I’d let him leave?”</p>
<p>Dolores’s gaze never wavers. “Because you don’t want Five to die, either.”</p>
<p>Evelyn’s smile becomes stiff. “Why do you think that?”</p>
<p>It’s Dolores’s turn to smile. “Because the dead don’t feel pain.”</p>
<p>“You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.” Evelynn looks back at Diego. “Your brother is so <em> interesting</em>, Diego. His mind was a mess even before I intervened. And now this?” She gestures at Dolores. “An entire <em> person</em>, hiding out in his brain? It’s <em> fascinating</em>.”</p>
<p>“Diego.” Dolores’s voice is quietly firm. </p>
<p>Diego takes a step toward the cloth hanging in the doorway, but, as much as he wants to find Five, leaving Dolores alone with Evelynn, even a fake version of Evelynn, feels wrong.</p>
<p>Evelynn’s gaze darts toward Diego, but before she can open her mouth, Dolores says, “It must get boring, being so predictable all the time.”</p>
<p>Evelynn snaps her head toward Dolores so quickly that her hair flops around her shoulder. Her voice is bemused disbelief. “Surely you weren’t talking to <em> me</em>.”</p>
<p>“Who else?” Dolores challenges. “An abused little girl grows up to be an abuser who craves control - it’s textbook.” She tilts her chin up. “You’re perfectly average.”</p>
<p>Evelynn laughs, the sound shrill, her eyes blazing with fury. “You know <em> nothing </em> about me.”</p>
<p>Dolores smirks, and, for an instant, Diego sees Five staring Evelynn down instead of the mannequin. “I don’t have to. I’m <em> right</em>.”</p>
<p>Evelynn’s hands clench into fists, and Diego tenses, certain she’s going to take a swing at Dolores. Then Evelynn relaxes, her features smoothing out in an expression similar to triumph. Her chuckle is quiet but genuine. “Ooh, you’re clever, aren’t you? Or, should I say, <em> he’s </em> clever.” She sighs, takes a step forward.  “But I’ll be damned if I let a mere fabrication get to me. You only exist inside here. You only get to speak to us because of <em> me</em>.” She’s standing directly in front of Dolores now. Twisted darkness, thick and oily, stains her tone. “Maybe it’s time our little friend realized that.”</p>
<p>Cold horror swells and churns within Diego. He moves to step toward them, unsure of how to stop Evelynn, but absolutely sure he <em> must </em> stop Evelynn, for a reason he doesn’t fully understand.</p>
<p>Dolores’s gaze flicks toward Diego. <em> Go, </em> her eyes command.</p>
<p>Evelynn reaches her hand out and touches Dolores on the forehead.</p>
<p>Dolores’s whole body stills, her limbs becoming stiff. Her skin grows waxy and pale. The color in her lips and cheeks fade, her eyes glaze over in a glassy, painted-on sheen, and her mouth freezes in a half-open position. One last breath expels from her lungs, impossibly loud in the hazy air.</p>
<p>Then a hairline fracture snakes away from Evelynn’s fingertip and etches itself onto Dolores’s plastic skin. It spreads, splintering across the surface of her entire body.</p>
<p>Dolores </p>
<p>(<em>Five</em>)</p>
<p>shatters.</p>
<p>A sound like the cracking of deep ice rends the earth. The smoke-filled sky rips open like paper, exposing a yawning, horrific blackness that shrieks a wrongness that rakes across Diego’s skin with talons of decadence.</p>
<p>Evelynn covers her mouth with one hand and titters as the void above her stretches farther open. She turns wide, deceitfully innocent eyes away from the shards of Dolores’s inanimate body to look at Diego. “Oops!” she says. “I guess that was a little too much for him to handle!”</p>
<p>The ground shudders and nearly throws Diego to the ground. He stumbles toward the doorway, one word throbbing against his skull: <em> Go, go, go. </em></p>
<p>From the corner of his eye, he sees Evelynn stretch her arms toward the gaping sky and spin in giddy circles, a manic grin on her lips. “Can you taste it?” she cries. “This absolute <em> ecstasy</em>?”</p>
<p>Diego tears the cloth aside and lurches through the doorway. </p>
<p>His foot plunges through a foot of snow. Acrid fog sits above his head, with no breeze to move it. The landscape is almost identical to the room Diego just left, other than the snow, but whereas that room was warm and bright, this place is bone-chillingly cold with muted colors. Grey snowflakes float through the air like frozen tears, and, even though it’s completely silent, it somehow sounds like the whole world is weeping.</p>
<p>Or maybe just one man.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Still Here," by Digital Daggers</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Regardless of Warnings, the Future Doesn't Scare Me at All</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just want to say thank you all so much for commenting! I normally don't reply to comments, but I want you to know that I read every single one (sometimes multiple times, because I have a problem).<br/>Side note: I named Evelynn after a character from a video game with a similar vibe. I'd already decided what her personality/power would be, but I hadn't come up with a name yet when I remembered this character. Bonus points if you know which video game :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>Regardless of Warnings, the Future Doesn't Scare Me at All</h3><p>Something is wrong. Five feels it deeper than his bones and with a certainty that defies all logic. Something is <em> very </em> wrong. His heart aches like a physical wound, but he can’t figure out why. The sky changed from grey to black, and the earth started rumbling quietly beneath his body, but those aren’t why he feels this way. And of <em> course </em> something’s wrong, everybody’s <em> dead</em>, after all, but this wrong resides in his chest, his head. He sits and he stares at the grey snow and he tries to figure out what’s different. Diego left a while ago, so the only company Five has are the snowflakes dropping slowly to their deaths. Small, imperfect crystalline structures doomed to perish on the remains of their predecessors, leaving nothing and everything behind.</p><p>That thought makes Five laugh. Then he starts laughing harder. He laughs so hard his chest constricts, his head throbs, and his gut clenches in pain. He laughs until tears drip off his jaw to the snow below.</p><p>He laughs because he just realized what was missing.</p><p>He said he didn’t hate this apocalypse, but that was before this one took the only thing the last one left him.</p><p>When his laughing fit is over, he stares at his fingers, watching them clench and uncurl as though they were someone else’s. He’s not sure if it’s just his imagination, but he feels like the shaking in the ground has become more pronounced, and the sky has grown even blacker. He managed to escape the apocalypse, didn’t he? Or was that a dream? What if there is no second apocalypse? What if there is and always has been one apocalypse with a single, identifiable beginning and no end?</p><p>Five isn’t sure how long he’s been staring at his hand, but when he looks up again, Klaus is on his knees in front of him. This Klaus is different than the other ones he’s seen so far, but it takes him a moment to figure out why. This Klaus is shivering.</p><p>(The other ones were too cold to shiver.)</p><p>But he looks as scared and lost and sad as the other ones, so Five doesn’t put too much stock into that observation.</p><p>“Oh,” Klaus says, a breathless laugh spilling from his lips in a visible cloud, “you <em> can </em> hear me, good, that’s good.”</p><p>Five idly wonders when Klaus’s skull will split open in a curtain of blood. Or has that already happened?</p><p>“Um, so,” Klaus says, looking around at the wintry landscape, “are you the real Five?”</p><p>Five sees the tear stains on his brother’s cheeks. They look wet.</p><p>“Diego can tell just by looking, which is pretty cool. Unless he was completely guessing those other times, but he seemed weirdly confident. I, <em> personally</em>, think it’s because Diego is actually coming to terms with the giant softie he is on the inside, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?” Klaus is rambling. “This place sucks, by the way. You couldn’t have had a nightmare about the Bahamas or something? I thought -” Klaus’s breath gets caught on something. He swallows. “I thought I found you. In the other room. I thought it was you.” Klaus presses the heel of his hand to his eyes. “I wanted it to be you.”</p><p>Five blinks sluggishly. It’s always hard to follow Klaus’s train of thought, but Five’s head is having a particularly difficult time wrapping around this monologue. At least this time it’s not about how much Klaus hates him, or how much more scared of the dead Klaus is now that he’s one of them.</p><p>“Well.” Klaus glances behind himself, then up at the ominous, darkening sky. “I don’t know where Diego is right now, and he’s the one who can tell if you’re real. The last room started shaking and falling apart, which is probably not a good sign, yeah?” Klaus’s face suddenly brightens. “If I can touch you, that means you’re real! I think. I’m pretty sure.” Klaus pauses, like he’s waiting for something.</p><p>But Five has nothing left to give.</p><p>Especially not to a figment of his imagination.</p><p>“Five,” another voice says.</p><p>Five, using a monumental effort, turns his head and thinks, <em> A family reunion, how sweet. </em></p><p>One of Luther’s eye sockets is empty, although it’s almost unnoticeable behind the mask of blood coating half of his face. “I <em> trusted </em> you,” Luther says. He’s laying on his stomach, but he uses one arm to drag himself through the snow toward Five. “You said you could save us, and I believed you.” His face is melting, his skin sloughing off his bones, but the hand that clutches Five is cold, cold, cold. “You would’ve been better off dying in the apocalypse.” Luther’s grinning, blood-stained skull clacks its teeth together. “<em>We </em>would’ve been better off if you died.”</p><p>Five is tired, tired, tired.</p><p>Long, thin fingers cover the skeletal remains of Luther’s, still fastened around Five’s arm, and pry them off. Klaus’s worried, sickened face dips into Five’s view. “We’ve got to get you out of here.” Something catches Klaus’s attention, because he jerks back and whips his head around. “Diego!” he yells.</p><p>Five closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to see Diego again. He’s tired of looking at Diego’s body. He’s tired of knowing he’s the one who filled it with holes.</p><p>He’s just . . .</p><p>“Five?”</p><p>. . . tired.</p><p>“How long has he been like this?” Diego, low and fast and almost frantic.</p><p>“Pretty much the whole time I’ve been here? So, like, a couple minutes?” Klaus, hesitant and nervous. “But his eyes were at least open before you came.”</p><p>“Klaus, he’s <em> dying</em>.”</p><p>“How do you know?”</p><p>A pause. “Someone told me.” Then - “Whoa, what the hell is that?”</p><p>“Luther. Er, it <em> was </em> Luther, I mean. But can we get back to the part where someone told you Five was dying? Who did you talk to? Where did you go?”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter.” Diego, dismissive. “Although -” Uneasy. “You saw Evelynn die, right?”</p><p>Evelynn. Five knows who that is. She’s the one who killed his family, which would make him angrier if he knew the truth wasn’t that he’s the one who killed his family.</p><p>He waits for a chiding voice to reprimand him for that thought, but it never comes.</p><p>“Yes. Did I enjoy it? Most definitely.”</p><p>“Okay, good, good.” A relieved sigh. “Five, can you hear me?”</p><p>These two are much more talkative than the corpses he normally runs into. Not that the other corpses don’t talk a lot, which they do, but they never have conversations with one another.</p><p>“Five.” A shadow passes over Five’s closed eyelids as snow shifts with a muffled crunch. “I know you’re still here.”</p><p>A bold statement, considering Five himself isn’t sure he’s still here.</p><p>Two hands grip Five’s upper arms, then Diego says firmly, “Five, <em> wake up</em>.”</p><p>His hands are warm.</p><p>Diego is <em> warm</em>.</p><p>Five opens his eyes, and Diego is inches from his face, his eyes narrowed in concentration. When Diego notices Five’s stare, he heaves out a massive exhale and settles back on his haunches, releasing Five.</p><p>Five ignores the pang in his chest at the loss of contact and croaks, “Who are you?” </p><p>Klaus and Diego both frown, then glance at each other. Klaus finally answers. “Your brothers?”</p><p>Five slowly shakes his head. Clumped snow tumbles from his head to his shoulders. “You can’t be. They’re all dead.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Klaus says, “we’re definitely not.”</p><p>“You’re inside your head. We all are,” Diego cuts in. “That’s the serial killer’s power - she can create illusions. Or, she could. She’s dead now.”</p><p>Five stares at them blankly.</p><p>Diego curses under his breath. “Listen, basically, you’re dreaming right now, and you have to wake up. If you don’t, you die. That’s why all this -” he waves a hand at the fractured, blackening landscape - “is happening.”</p><p>“Who cares?” Five says. “What is there to wake up to? I killed all of you.”</p><p>“No, you didn’t,” Klaus says, leaning forward. He sweeps a hand down the length of his body and forces a smile that’s supposed to be light-hearted. “See? We’re as fit as fiddles. Not dead.”</p><p>But Five can still feel the cold, burning weight of the gun knife throat syringe hammer in his hand, and he can still see the blood, and he <em> knows </em> they were real. As real as the apocalypse that never ended.</p><p>But . . .</p><p>Five can still feel the lingering warmth of Diego’s hands.</p><p>“What if -” Five starts to say and then stops. The possibility of him still having a family is too much. The possibility of that hope will flatten him. It will kill what’s left of him.</p><p>“What if what?” Diego snaps.</p><p>“What if I wake up and you’re not there?” Five says.</p><p>Because that will kill him, too.</p><p>Klaus gives him a look of sympathy that, under normal circumstances, would make Five’s blood boil. He’s too tired to muster up the annoyance. “We <em> are </em> there. I promise.”</p><p>“So <em> wake up</em>,” Diego says.</p><p>“You don’t think I want to?” Five says, heated if he could summon something besides the cold into his bones. “You don’t think I’d love it if this ended up being a dream?” Because of course he does, of course he would, but.</p><p>But but but.</p><p>He didn’t survive the apocalypse with that mentality. He wouldn’t have made it long with that mentality.</p><p>“If,” Five says, and he chooses his words carefully, because it takes an effort to speak, and he can feel the chill fraying his already sapped strength, “this is a dream, I need to know exactly how much isn’t real.” Five directs his attention at Diego. “The serial killer?”</p><p>“Real. And named Evelynn.”</p><p>“The three who attacked me?”</p><p>“Real.”</p><p>“The club?”</p><p>“Real.”</p><p>Five wills his gaze to hold steady, his voice not to crack, his breathing not to falter. “Me shooting you?”</p><p>Klaus’s voice is gentle when he responds for Diego. “Not real.”</p><p>Five wants to believe it. He wants to believe it so badly.</p><p>“Me getting tortured?”</p><p>“Real,” Diego says, eyes hard.</p><p>Klaus winces. “Unfortunately.”</p><p>“Me stabbing Klaus?”</p><p>Klaus blinks, and Diego shakes his head.</p><p>“Me strangling Allison? Poisoning Vanya? Beating Luther to death?”</p><p>“Not real, not real, and not real,” Klaus lists. </p><p>The hope Five doesn’t want, can’t stomach, swells. <em> If </em> what they’re saying is true, and <em> if </em> they are alive, everything fake happened after he saw Evelynn’s eyes glow blue. So, logically, her power <em> could </em> be to trap people in hallucinations. It might not be to control others.</p><p>The tenuous hope thickens into a strand solid enough for Five to almost grasp, solid enough to nearly strangle him.</p><p>Klaus has decided to monologue again. “You’ve been tied to a chair this whole time. But Diego and I came to rescue you, which we did a <em> superb </em> job of, by the way. We took care of Evelynn’s men, and I can summon ghosts now, which is dope -” Five decides not to mention he’s already seen Klaus do that in a war that never happened - “and then we found you and Evelynn and <em> boom </em> -” Klaus grins smugly  - “Diego chucked a knife through her throat.”</p><p>The color drains from Diego’s face. “No I didn’t.”</p><p>Klaus raises an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you did, brother mine.”</p><p>An emotion Five can't place blooms in Diego’s eyes. “I couldn’t. I didn’t have any knives left. I saw you shoot Evelynn.”</p><p>“What?” Klaus spreads his hands. “I don’t even own a gun.”</p><p>“You grabbed one off of one of the bodies. You said something like, ‘This is the first time I’ve used one, and hopefully the last.’”</p><p>Klaus shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have said that. I fired plenty of guns in Vietnam.”</p><p>The two brothers look at each other for several seconds, then Klaus breathes out, “Shit,” at the same time Diego slams his fist in the snow and shouts, “<em>Shit</em>!”</p><p>“How long have we been in here?” Diego demands of Klaus.</p><p>“How am <em> I </em> supposed to know?”</p><p>“Great,” Diego says. “We’ve been <em> sitting ducks </em> in the real world for <em> who knows </em> how long, where she could be doing <em> anything </em> to us right now.”</p><p>Five’s mouth is dry. “So, let me get this straight - Evelynn is <em> not </em> dead.”</p><p>Diego rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Trust me, we’re as thrilled as you are.”</p><p>
  <em> “Agony is.” </em>
</p><p>If they’re right, if they’re real, Evelynn could be standing over their dead bodies when Five wakes up, a bloody grin on her face, because what could be more torturous than allowing him to clutch false hope, only to sever it right in front of him?</p><p>The strand wrapped around his throat suddenly burns.</p><p>“Five,” Diego says urgently, “you have to wake up <em> now</em>.”</p><p>Or this is all just an elaborate scheme on her part, and he wakes up surrounded by all of the siblings he murdered.</p><p>But if they <em> are </em> real, then they’re in danger, if they’re not dead already, and that’s reason enough for Five to reach up and seize that strand of hope, heedless of the skin it sears and the way it tightens around his neck. <em>Okay</em>, he thinks, closing his eyes. He shoves every disbelief, every worry of what he may find to the back of his mind and pictures the garage he nearly drowned in. He pictures stabbing Evelynn's smug face. He pictures Klaus and Diego, <em> alive </em> and <em> whole </em> and <em> there</em>, and he opens his eyes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Simple and Clean," by Hikaru Utada</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. I Need You More Than I Can Take</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I absolutely adore how bloodthirsty most of you were in the comments for last chapter haha.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>I Need You More Than I Can Take</h3><p>The first thing Five is aware of is the pain. Like a living, vicious creature, it shadows his every heartbeat and clings to every breath. It’s sunk its talons in deep and won’t let go, Five is sure, until he’s dead.</p><p>But he didn’t break out of Evelynn’s illusion to wallow in his own misfortunes, and so he inhales a lungful of air that makes his ribs shudder and exhales a breath that scrapes his aching throat, and he forces his swimming gaze to focus. Klaus and Diego are standing in front of him, each one clutching one of his hands like two anchoring points of warmth. They loom over him, and it takes him too long to understand that it’s because he’s tied to a chair. He remembers this chair, although it feels like a lifetime ago. It feels like decades have passed since flames and blades and fists kissed his skin, even if the pain reminds him of how recent it truly was.</p><p>Evelynn is nowhere to be seen. The door is wide open behind his brothers. Could she be lurking in the next room? Could she have left entirely? Or did she never leave at all? Does her power allow her to manipulate what’s being seen, to a degree?</p><p>Or is this just what he wants to see? What if he’s still dreaming? (What if he was never dreaming?)</p><p>Diego is the first to let go, leaving only one point of contact grounding Five to this realm. Diego swings around, his fists up and his eyes half-closed, as though that will deter Evelynn’s power.</p><p>It might. Five still doesn’t understand her capabilities.</p><p>Klaus’s eyes are squeezed shut. “What did she do? Where is she? Are we dead?” He grips Five’s right hand tighter, and Five has to fight to keep the yelp bottled in his chest. His hand is slippery with blood and laced with needling fire.</p><p>“She’s not here,” Diego growls.</p><p>Klaus cautiously peels his eyes open. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”</p><p>Diego snarls. “Her body was <em> right here</em>.”</p><p>Five doesn’t have time to dwell on the fact that his brothers are alive because he has to <em> keep </em> them alive. “Untie me,” he barks. Rasps. Croaks. Why does his throat hurt so much?</p><p>(He remembers a man leering at him as two hands wrap around his neck.)</p><p>(He remembers gripping a cord of fire that winds around his neck.)</p><p>“Oh, right, right.” Klaus releases Five’s hand to begin working on the ropes.</p><p>As soon as Klaus lets go of Five, the pain in his hand lessens, but his lungs constrict and his body shudders. The temperature of the room drops. He can see his breath. Ice crystallizes on the tips of his fingers, forming a shiny blue surface on his fingernails. Klaus says something, but the words don’t reach Five because it’s as silent as a tomb.</p><p><em> No</em>, Five thinks vehemently. <em> Absolutely not. </em> He <em> knows </em> this is real. He <em> knows </em> this isn’t a trick.</p><p>(Has Klaus always been that pale? And is that blood on Diego’s jacket?)</p><p><em> It’s real, </em> Five thinks.</p><p>Diego and Klaus are <em> alive</em>.</p><p>
  <em> It’s real. </em>
</p><p>Is he reminding himself or convincing himself?</p><p>
  <em> It’s real. </em>
</p><p>Dolores would know.</p><p><em> Fuck, </em> he wants to scream.</p><p>Instead he stares directly at Klaus’s moving mouth. Klaus isn’t looking at Five - he’s focused on untying Five’s unwounded hand. Diego is half-out the door, scanning the next room. Neither one of them look cold, yet Five is freezing. The ice is crawling up his hands and onto his forearms. It will mummify his body until he’s just as pale and lifeless as the corpses of his siblings. Five knows this is real because it <em> has </em> to be, but he’s frigid, and every color he first saw upon opening his eyes has faded to a dull grey.</p><p>He wants to shriek in rage. She took away Dolores - he won’t let her have his sanity, as well. </p><p>(Of course, you have to own something in order for someone to take it away, he thinks.)</p><p>He clenches his hands into fists. His right, bloody hand immediately flares in hot, biting pain. The feeling is so intense his breathing stutters, and he has to fight not to howl in agony. But for an instant, colors bleed back into existence, and the sheen of ice, now at his biceps, recedes.</p><p>Fine. Pain is not an elegant solution, but pain is doable. </p><p>With the reappearance of colors comes Klaus’s rapid-fire words. “- just saying, if <em> I </em> were her, <em> I </em> would’ve killed us, you know? It’s not like we would’ve been able to stop her.”</p><p>“Yeah,” says Diego, who’s still checking out the next room, “but you’re <em> not </em> her. No one is, so who knows why she does what she does.”</p><p>“As I’m sure you can relate to, it’s not the <em> canvas </em> that matters, is it?” Evelynn had said to Five, a knowing smirk on her lips.</p><p>Had he understood her?</p><p>Of course not.</p><p>Maybe.</p><p>Klaus finally finished unbinding Five’s wrist and has moved on to the other one. The medium winces every time he glances at the open, bloody hole in Five’s hand. “That looks pretty bad.”</p><p>Five almost laughs, but his throat is too raw for him to bother, so he settles for a sarcastic, “Oh? I hadn’t noticed.” He doesn’t remember receiving that wound, actually. Was it already there when he woke up? They at least had the decency to damage his non-dominant hand, he supposes.</p><p>“Coast is clear,” Diego says as Klaus finishes untying Five’s hand. The medium moves to to start working on the ropes at Five’s ankles, but Five shoves him away with the palms of his hands. </p><p>“I’m not <em> inept</em>,” Five snarls as his body fights to focus on the lingering warmth on the pads of his fingers rather than the burn of his wound.</p><p>Klaus eyes Five’s fingers as they clumsily fumble with the knots. <em> Damn it</em>, why is he shaking? “Doesn’t it hurt?” Klaus says skeptically.</p><p>“I’ve had worse,” Five says, the most honest deflection he can offer.</p><p>“I’m going to scout ahead,” Diego says.</p><p>“No.” The word is short enough, Five hopes, not to reveal the bolt of fear that streaked through him. Before he can shut it out completely, his mind betrays him.</p><p>
  <em> Don’t leave me. </em>
</p><p>Slimy, dirty disgust nearly overwhelms him. He’s <em> better </em>than that.</p><p>He says, “We <em> cannot </em> split up when there’s still a possibility of Evelynn being here. I doubt her powers work as well on groups of people. She prefers individuals.”</p><p><em> I preferred individuals as an assassin, </em> he doesn’t say.</p><p>Diego huffs, stepping back into the room. “Fine.”</p><p>Klaus makes a choked sound, and Five whips his head toward the medium, panic lurching through his blood and scraping its nails against his brain. Is Klaus hurt? Did he get injured in the fight with Evelynn’s people? As a matter of fact, did Diego? He never even thought to check. He’s getting old.</p><p>Klaus’s eyes are fixed on Diego. “What?” Diego says.</p><p>Then Five sees it, too.</p><p>“<em>What</em>?” Diego barks, annoyed.</p><p>“Shiiiiit,” Klaus breathes.</p><p>Even though there’s no logical reason behind it, and even though it probably doesn’t make sense to anyone else, Five now knows for a fact that Evelynn is long gone.</p><p>A perfect, rosy-red lipstick mark stains Diego’s cheek.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They make it to the car without incident, as Five knew they would. He understands he has no proof other than a gut feeling to support that, so he doesn’t bother mentioning it to his brothers, who, of course, are arguing.</p><p>“I already <em> told </em> you - the ghosts are <em> gone</em>.”</p><p>“What do you mean <em> gone</em>? Doesn’t that mean Evelynn is dead?”</p><p>Klaus throws his hands up from his position in the backseat. “How am I supposed to know?”</p><p>“I don’t know, maybe because you <em> talk to dead people</em>.”</p><p>“Only recently! Maybe you’ve forgotten, but for most of my life, they’ve spent their time screaming at me. I haven’t suddenly unlocked all the secrets of the afterlife in a <em> year</em>.”</p><p>“Your power is shit,” Diego says.</p><p>Klaus’s laugh sounds exhausted. “No kidding.”</p><p>The trees blurring past Five’s car window are black shapes silhouetted against a red morning sky, but even as he watches, leaves drop to the ground like snowflakes. The skeletal branches that are left behind at this mass exodus of greenery point at him accusingly, blood dripping from their tips like melting snow. Five clenches his right hand. Fresh, hot blood trickles out of his wound, and a hiss slides out between his teeth before he can stop it. No leaves are falling from the trees. The branches are hidden beneath the foliage.</p><p><em> Shit</em>, he’s losing his mind.</p><p>“Five, you okay?” Diego asks.</p><p>When did they stop arguing?</p><p>“Yes,” Five says flippantly. He pointedly ignores Diego’s skeptical, sidelong glance at him and Klaus’s scoff from the back. His concentration can’t lapse like that again. Not when Evelynn is still out there. “Where are we going first?”</p><p>Diego is silent for a moment, as though he’s debating whether to pursue his first question further or move on. “The academy,” he finally says.</p><p>“No,” Five says. “Vanya’s apartment, first.”</p><p>“Uh, what?” Klaus says. “I don’t think Vanya has the supplies we need to fix you up.”</p><p><em> Imagine </em> how much time Five could save if his siblings were smarter. “Evelynn wasn’t at the warehouse, which means she could be at any one of our siblings’ places.”</p><p>“How would she know -” Klaus starts, but Diego slams a hand on the steering wheel as the realization hits him.</p><p>“She saw everything in Five’s illusion. Who knows how much info about us she got from that,” Diego says.</p><p>“Vanya’s apartment first,” Five repeats. “It’s closer, and from there we can try to contact Luther and Allison. Then we all meet up at the academy. We have to stick together until we’ve found Evelynn.” Until they’ve killed her.</p><p>The car roars as Diego presses the gas pedal to the floor.</p><p>“You sure you’ll be okay until then?” Klaus asks.</p><p>The rising sun behind the trees bleeds red across the horizon, casting a grey light on the snowflakes that tumble from a cloudless sky.</p><p>“Of course,” Five says in a puff of visible breath.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Figure 8," by Ellie Goulding</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. "No Time for Goodbye," He Said</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I normally don't write the next chapter this quickly, but I was dying to write this week for some reason. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>"No Time for Goodbye," He Said</h3><p>“<em>What</em>?” Vanya says.</p><p>She didn’t take their news as well as Five was hoping she would, which is an annoyance, but a somewhat expected one. It’s a lot of information crammed into a few short sentences from Diego, with the occasional interjection from Klaus.</p><p>Five sighs. Vanya’s apartment is so cold he can see his breath. “We can discuss the details later,” he says. “Right now, we have to get everyone to the academy.” Klaus is in Vanya’s kitchen, using her phone to call Luther and Allison.</p><p>Vanya looks at Diego and raises an eyebrow. “And we’re <em> fine </em> with how Five looks right now?”</p><p>“<em>No</em>, but he said we had to make sure Evelynn hadn’t come here.”</p><p>“He looks like shit, Diego.”</p><p>“<em>He </em> can speak for himself,” Five cuts in, annoyance biting at his words. “<em>He </em> is fine.” Vanya doesn’t look convinced, but convincing her is not his priority. “We have more important things going on. We already know she’s obsessed with one of us, so it’s entirely likely she’ll go after someone related to him.” He glances at Diego, whose cheek is still red from when he viciously rubbed the lipstick mark off.</p><p>Diego grunts and leans against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. Purple shadows hang under his eyes, and his body seems to droop with weariness. When’s the last time he slept?</p><p>Diego almost lazily holds up two fingers. “Two of us. Don’t think you can count yourself out.”</p><p>Five considers this. “Fine. Two of us. Which only furthers my point.”</p><p>“Let’s say for a minute that I <em> do </em> believe whatever you’re doing right now is more important than getting Five to a hospital,” Vanya says. “What makes you think she won’t go after us when we’re all together?”</p><p>“I don’t think her power works as well on groups of people,” Five says. His throat feels like one big bruise wrapped around his vocal chords. “She trapped Klaus and me in our own heads individually, but when it was Diego and Klaus at the same time, she only induced a mass hallucination. I’m guessing that wasn’t by choice.” It’ll be easier for him to protect them when they’re all together, as well.</p><p>“Okay,” Vanya says, “but what if she singles you out while you’re like this?”</p><p>“I’ll handle her,” Five says at the same time Diego says, “I’d like to see her try.”</p><p>Five cuts a gaze at Diego, who meets his heated glare evenly.</p><p>Vanya sighs and rubs her forehead, then looks at Five. “Why are you screaming?” she asks.</p><p>Five blinks. His hand throbs to the rhythm of his heart. “What did you say?” he says, his mouth dry.</p><p>Vanya frowns. “I asked if you wanted a drink.”</p><p>Five glances down and realizes he’s digging his nails into the palm of his hand. Blood is trickling down his knuckles to Vanya’s carpet.</p><p>“I can get it myself,” Five says and blinks to the kitchen. </p><p>From the room he just left, he hears Vanya’s voice, a little too loud and frantic to be a proper whisper. “Seriously? We’re just not gonna talk about that?”</p><p>Diego mutters something too low for Five to hear, but Five isn’t interested in the rest of the conversation. Unless Five is on the brink of collapsing from blood loss, which he <em> isn’t </em> (he knows what that feels like), they need to keep going. Why are his siblings so impractical?</p><p>He actually is thirsty, so he reaches for a glass in the cabinet above his head, but his hands are shaking too hard for him to grab it. <em> Get a grip, </em> he commands himself.</p><p>“Five!” a voice joyously exclaims.</p><p>Five winces but doesn’t turn around.</p><p>“I got a hold of both of them,” Klaus continues. “They’re headed to the academy now.”</p><p>Good. Two less things to worry about for now.</p><p>A lanky arm reaches past him to pluck two glasses by the rims from the cabinet. “I don’t know about you, but I need a <em> drink </em> after this morning. Well, last night. You know what I mean.” The faucet turns on with a squeak, and the glasses clink as Klaus runs them both under the water. “<em>But </em> since I’m <em> sober </em> and all, I guess this’ll have to do.” A glass is shoved toward Five, who clutches it without thinking. His blood smudges the glass. “A toast! To not being dead!”</p><p>Klaus obviously witnessed Five’s failed attempt to grab a cup by himself. Does Klaus think he’s being at all subtle? Does he think Five <em> needs </em> him?</p><p>Five’s fingers tighten around the glass. He turns.</p><p>Klaus’s grin is made wider by the deep slashes stretching from the corners of his mouth to his cheekbones, leaking blood down his jaw in streaks of red. He lifts his glass, which Five now sees is filled with snow. “Drink up!” He throws the glass back, staining the grey snow maroon where it touches his bloody lips. He notices Five’s stare and pauses. “What’s the matter?”</p><p>Five balls his aching hand into a fist and slams it against the counter behind him.</p><p>Klaus (not-bleeding Klaus, holding-a-glass-of-water Klaus) flinches. “What is <em> wrong </em> with you? Didn’t that hurt?”</p><p>That’s the point, but Klaus wouldn’t understand. Maybe once everyone’s at the academy, Five can take the time to deal with this issue. “There was a spider,” Five says.</p><p>Klaus looks from the smear of blood on the counter to Five. “But you . . . never even turned around.”</p><p>“I could sense it.” Five chugs his glass dry. Every swallow constricts his throat, but at least he’s not thirsty anymore. He spots a dish towel near the sink and snags it, wrapping it around his wounded hand.</p><p>“Hey,” Klaus says as Five turns to leave the kitchen. “I’ve been in a - well, not the <em> exact </em> same, or, I guess, even <em> close </em> to the same, but a similar, uh, situation, so if you need to talk about it or anything, I’m, you know . . .” Five can practically hear the medium’s shrug. “Available.”</p><p><em>Yeah,</em> <em>remember that time you were so focused on saving your siblings you let one of them get kidnapped and tortured?</em> a voice sneers at him.</p><p>Five doesn’t turn around. “Let’s get moving,” he says loudly, interrupting the hushed, intense dialogue between Diego and Vanya. “We’ve wasted too much time here.”</p><p>It’s too cold in here, anyway.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Allison takes it <em> much </em> worse than Vanya. Diego manages to get three words out before Allison cuts him off with a stern, “I don’t <em> care </em> what happened - I can get caught up later. <em> How long has Five looked like this</em>?”</p><p>“<em>Once again</em>,” Five says through gritted teeth, “I’m right here.”</p><p>“I’m aware,” Allison snaps, “but right now I’m talking to the people who understand what self-preservation is.”</p><p>“I tried,” Vanya says half-heartedly, directing her mumbled words at her shoes.</p><p>Diego scoffs. “Sure, Allison, let’s see <em> you </em> make Five do something he doesn’t want to do.”</p><p>Allison’s eyes still blaze with defiance, but she snaps her mouth shut.</p><p>“Plus,” Klaus says, wedging himself in between Diego and Allison, “we knew he’d be more willing to rest and stuff after we made sure you guys were safe.” Klaus beams at Five. “And they are! So now we can do something about your hand.” Klaus’s eyes flick uneasily toward the appendage, and Five knows he’s thinking about Five slamming it on the countertop.</p><p>The <em> audacity </em> of these people. These naive children who think they can manipulate him. These strangers who think they can predict his actions.</p><p>There was only ever one person who truly understood him, and she’s dead now.</p><p><em> Regardless</em>, what do his injuries have to do with them?</p><p>“I know what I can and can’t handle,” Five snaps.</p><p>“You’re <em> bleeding</em>.” Luther’s first contribution to the conversation.</p><p>Five can’t keep the condescending edge from his voice. “Yeah, that tends to happen when you get cut.”</p><p>“Five,” Allison says, “can’t you see we’re just trying to <em> help </em> you?”</p><p>“I’ve never asked for that,” Five snarls.</p><p>“You don’t have to!” she says. Her eyes are pleading.</p><p>Five turns his back on her. He has to leave. He has to get out of this conversation charged by an emotion he’s not sure he understands. </p><p>He hears Allison draw in a breath. “<em>I heard a rumor </em> -”</p><p>He must have blinked, because now he’s standing directly in front of Allison. No, not in front of - on top of. Her eyes are bulging; her breaths are choking wheezes.</p><p>His hands are around her throat.</p><p>Someone roars - Luther, he thinks - and then an arm crashes into him, knocking him airborne and away from Allison. He collides heavily with the wall. Something in his chest cracks. Vanya screams. White-hot pain burrows ice-cold thorns into his hand.</p><p>“Stop!” Allison yells.</p><p>Allison? But he just -</p><p>“<em>Five, stop it!</em>”</p><p>Allison is standing in front of him. She looks terrified, but not like she’s just been strangled.</p><p>He groggily looks down. The fingers of his left hand are plunged deep into the wound on his right hand.</p><p>Someone reaches for him, and he instinctively blinks away. He tries to inhale. He thinks he does. It’s hard to think when it’s this fucking cold. When he pulls his fingers out of the wound, it’s snow, not blood, staining his skin.</p><p>He hauls his gaze upward. Five frost-bitten corpses shamble toward him, their lips pulled back in rictus smiles, tears frozen on their splintered cheeks. </p><p><em> You lose, </em> a familiar voice giggles.</p><p>Five closes his eyes and surrenders.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Get Out Alive," by Three Days Grace</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Forgotten What We're Dying For</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ahhh I'm sorry this one took so long!<br/>(You're allowed to judge me for my irregular chapter lengths lol. I just didn't like the idea of breaking this one up into multiple chapters.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>Forgotten What We're Dying For</h3><p>Five wakes up tied to a chair in a cold warehouse.</p><p>Evelynn smiles at him. “Good morning! How did you sleep?” She leans in, her dark hair tumbling off her shoulder like a curtain of blood. “How were your dreams?”</p><p>Five wishes he were livid. He wishes he could muster the strength to spit in her face.</p><p>“Did you think you’d <em> escaped </em> me?” Evelynn laughs girlishly. “That’s so adorable!”</p><p>Pain is a dull ache that lingers beneath his skin - blunt but unending. His gaze falls to the floor, where black streaks stain the concrete. Five has seen dried blood often enough to recognize it when he sees it, but what’s disconcerting is that he can’t remember whose this is. Maybe it’s his. He hopes it’s his.</p><p>Evelynn’s cold fingers cup his jaw and gently tip his head up. “I <em> own </em> you,” she whispers, her eyes bright with hunger.</p><p>Five wakes up lying in his bed in a cold room.</p><p>He stares at the ceiling. He breathes, in and out. His whole body hurts, but is this pain sharper than the pain he experienced with Evelynn just now? It’s getting harder and harder to tell. He clenches his right hand into a fist. It feels like someone is jabbing hot needles into his hand, but it doesn’t hurt as much as Five was expecting. It barely hurts as much as Five needs it to. He raises his arm above his head to see layers of gauze wrapped around his palm.</p><p>His temporary solution has hit a snag, it seems, but that’s fine. After he deals with Evelynn, he can start working toward a permanent solution for this . . . reality issue.</p><p>Dolores would hate that. Dolores would say -</p><p>Five doesn’t want to think about Dolores right now.</p><p>He has to prioritize. He wouldn’t necessarily say he likes prioritizing, or that it gives him enjoyment, but it was the only reason he survived the apocalypse. First - keep his family alive. Second - kill Evelynn. Third - everything else.</p><p>He’s aware his grip on reality is deteriorating. But he can manage at least long enough to take care of Evelynn. What happens afterward happens, but ideally, killing Evelynn will be enough to fix him. If not? </p><p>Well. </p><p>It won’t be the first time he’s lost his mind. </p><p>For once, Five doesn’t want to be stuck in his own head, so he stands and blinks to the living room. The only sibling there is Luther, who’s seated on a couch meant for three people and yet makes it look like it fits only one. Luther flinches hard. “<em>Holy </em>-” Luther starts, but Five doesn’t let him finish.</p><p>“How long have I been asleep?”</p><p>Luther glances around uncertainly. “Um, I don’t - shouldn’t you still be in bed?”</p><p>Five lets the silence speak for him.</p><p>“Right.” Luther chuckles awkwardly. “Old man, not a kid. You’ve been out for maybe four hours?”</p><p>Five frowns. Too long. That means Evelynn’s had four hours to enact any plans she might have uninterrupted, because Five knows his siblings well enough to know they haven’t contributed anything toward finding her while he’s been asleep.</p><p>“Are you feeling any better?” Luther says. His eyes dart toward Five’s bandaged hand.</p><p>“Much,” Five says shortly. In truth, he feels no more rested than before, and he has no doubt his dreams are to blame.</p><p>Luther blinks, surprised. “Oh, good! I mean, that’s great. You - you kind of had us worried.” Blood starts running from the corners of Luther’s eyes like tears. “We just want to make sure you’re okay, you know?”</p><p>Five forces himself to smile. The pain in his hand isn’t sharp enough to erase those red tear tracks. “Yes, I’m aware of how fond you all are of ignoring my seniority.”</p><p>As Luther puzzles that statement out, Five blinks to the foyer and snatches the van keys from their hook. His stomach rumbles in protest at this use of his powers, so on second thought, his next blink is to the kitchen, where he grabs a granola bar.</p><p>“Um, Five?” comes Luther’s voice, still in the living room. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Cleaning up a mess,” Five replies absently before blinking to the van. He turns the keys in the ignition, then unwraps his granola bar and takes a massive bite out of it. It’s hard for him to remember to eat.  He’s been in a constant state of hunger his whole life, and the times he wasn’t hungry, he was starving. Hunger is simply one of the indicators he’s still alive. But his powers require energy, and he’s had more close calls than he’s comfortable admitting simply because he hasn’t consumed enough fuel before a fight.</p><p>Five is just starting to ease the van forward when a pair of hands slam on the windshield.</p><p>“Where the <em> hell </em> are you going?” Diego shouts, his voice partially muffled by the plane of glass.</p><p>Five hits a quick, braying note on the horn. “Out of the way, asshole!”</p><p>Diego slaps the glass again. “Not until you tell me where you’re going!”</p><p>Diego looks furious, and Five can’t even pretend to understand why. “What’s the matter with you?”</p><p>Diego’s eyes grow almost comically wide. “What’s the matter with <em> me</em>? Are you serious?”</p><p>Five spreads his hands. “I asked, didn’t I?”</p><p>“What happened to us being safer when we’re all together?” Diego’s still yelling, and Five is starting to seriously regret not running his sibling over when he had the chance.</p><p>Five rolls his eyes. “Safer for <em> you </em>guys, obviously. I didn’t think I would have to spell that out. Now that I know you’re all here, I’m going to kill Evelynn.”</p><p>“<em>Excuse me</em>? <em> You </em> were the one she went after!”</p><p>“And <em> because </em>of that, I know how to handle her.” Why is this so hard for Diego to grasp?</p><p>Diego’s eyes narrow. “Is this about Dolores?”</p><p>Five stills. All he can hear is his heartbeat thumping in solitary silence, echoing in the confines of the freezing vehicle. Frost creeps along the edges of the windshield. Five can’t breathe.</p><p>Then suddenly he can, and it’s a massive breath so cold it burns his aching throat and chills his lungs, and it’s the stimulus he needs to blink outside the van and shove Diego up against the wall. One of Diego’s knives is clutched in his hand, pressed against Diego’s throat. Five doesn’t remember grabbing it.</p><p>Now that Five’s started breathing again, he’s doing it quickly and loudly, in short, desperate pants. Diego’s breaths are slow and even, his chest calmly rising and falling beneath Five’s trembling grip. Diego raises both hands in the air, palms facing out. “Hey,” he says quietly. There’s something in Diego’s gaze that takes Five far too long to process, simply because he can’t remember the last time anyone directed it at him: understanding.</p><p>“What would <em> you </em> know?” Five spits, but the rage is already leaking out of his skin, pooling in a miserable puddle at his feet. The ice has deserted his bones, leaving a gnawing numbness in its place.</p><p>Five closes his eyes. <em> Shit. </em></p><p>She would be so disappointed in him.</p><p>Five releases his hold on Diego’s jacket. His fingers instantly crave the warmth again, but he forces himself to take a step back and let the knife clatter to the snow. </p><p>Concrete. There is no snow.</p><p>Diego never takes his eyes off of Five as he bends down to retrieve the knife. “Hear me out,” Diego says, and Five loathes how carefully Diego is speaking, as though Five were a deer who might bolt at any moment, even if it’s deserved. “The others aren’t entirely caught up on Evelynn and her powers yet, so I think we should have a family meeting. We’ve seen how well <em> not </em> talking to one another has worked.”</p><p>Maybe if Five hadn’t just threatened Diego’s life, he would’ve said no. But he did, and attending a family meeting is the (barely) preferable alternative to apologizing, even if it is an obvious ploy to get Five to stay. <em> Why </em> Diego wants Five to stay is still beyond him, but Five supposes he can’t expect an explanation after his latest display.</p><p>“Fine,” Five says and blinks inside.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Klaus had to be woken, which failed to shock Five, despite it being one in the afternoon. Then again, he supposes the medium didn’t get any sleep last night. Klaus collapsed dramatically onto the couch, causing Vanya to try and force her already hunched form into an even smaller ball and Luther to awkwardly sidle closer to the corner. Allison claimed the love seat for herself and is sitting forward, her elbows on her knees as she looks at Five expectantly.</p><p>Five refuses to sit, because that would imply this will take long. Diego is also standing, but he’s positioned himself closer to the door, and he’s watching Five like a hawk.</p><p>Five wants to laugh. Does Diego think he can stop Five if Five decides to leave? It’s almost - if Five were prone to using such a word - cute.</p><p>No one looks like they’re about to break the silence, so Five huffs. “Well, what do you not know about Evelynn yet?”</p><p>“What does she look like?” Luther asks.</p><p>“Keep it in your pants, King Kong,” Diego says.</p><p>Allison rolls her eyes. “Shut <em> up</em>, Diego.”</p><p>“I’m not - I just -” Luther starts.</p><p>One question in and they’ve already derailed the meeting. Five, however, is interested in wrapping this up as soon as possible, so he cuts in. “Average height, long brown hair, brown eyes.”</p><p>“That sometimes glow blue,” Klaus adds.</p><p>“I don’t think I understand her power?” Vanya says, posing the statement as a hesitant question. “If you look at her she can make you fall asleep? Or, um, dream?”</p><p>“No,” Diego says as Klaus hums, “Kind of.”</p><p>“Her power is manipulation of the senses,” Five says. “She can make you hallucinate - see, hear, feel things that aren’t there.”</p><p>Like a bullet hole in Diego’s head.</p><p>Like a raspy, broken voice begging, <em> “Five, please, stop.” </em></p><p>“And it’s only if you look at her eyes,” Diego says. </p><p>“What kinds of things does she make you hallucinate?” Luther asks.</p><p>Five pairs of eyes swivel toward Five.</p><p>Vanya had called Evelynn’s hallucinations dreams, and Five supposes there was a surreal aspect to the experience, but he would argue it was the farthest thing from a dream. Dreams fade after you wake.</p><p>He can’t forget a single moment he spent in his head.</p><p>He’s not interested in sharing the intimate details with his siblings, however, so he wrestles with formulating a response. </p><p>“Nightmares,” Diego answers for him.</p><p>Five can’t help but sneer. That word makes him sound like a trembling child who’s still afraid of the dark, but it’s hard to come up with a more apt description. </p><p>“Are you all ‘caught up’ now?” Five says, scowling. Evelynn already has four hours on him. He needs to get started.</p><p>Almost in unison, Luther, Allison and Diego look at Vanya. “Do you -” Vanya blurts out, then hesitates. She slides a glance at Allison, who nods her head encouragingly.</p><p>Five is immediately suspicious. More than one of his siblings being on the same page is almost never a good omen. “What?” he snaps.</p><p>“Do you think,” Vanya says, unable to quite meet his gaze, “that there could be side effects to Evelynn’s powers?”</p><p>Five can read between the lines, so he’s able to see her unspoken words crawled out in the air between them: </p><p>
  <em> Do you think you could be going crazy? </em>
</p><p>Five blinks behind Vanya and snaps her neck.</p><p>Five closes his eyes. He breathes out. He curls his fingers, and they clutch nothing, because he hasn’t moved.</p><p>“Yes,” Five admits.</p><p>Incredulous silence follows his words. Annoyed by it, he wrenches his eyes open and snarls, “What? You don’t believe me?”</p><p>“No, it’s not that,” Allison says quickly. “I’m just - we didn’t think you’d admit it.”</p><p>Five is once again reminded of the years spanning between him and his siblings. They don’t know him. He thought he knew them, at least, but the siblings he knew existed forty-five years ago. Their childishness can be deceptive at times, but they’re older; different.</p><p>And it’s sentimental and selfish and foolish, but Five sometimes wishes they weren’t.</p><p>“Okay,” Five says, shoving his hands in his pockets, shoving that thought back down, “this has been fun, but I have to -”</p><p>Diego and Luther’s voices overlap as they both cut him off.</p><p>“You’re still planning on <em> leaving</em>?”</p><p>“What side effects?”</p><p>Five isn’t sure whose question is more annoying, so he settles for narrowing his eyes at both of his brothers. “<em>Somebody </em> has to take care of Evelynn,” he says to Diego. He ignores Luther’s question.</p><p>“Why does it have to be you?” Allison asks.</p><p>“Because this is literally what I trained for,” Five bites out.</p><p>Luther looks offended. “What about the rest of us? We went through the same training.”</p><p>Five levels his gaze at Luther. “No, we didn’t.”</p><p>What’s one more body stacked in the towering pile behind Five? What’s one more bloodstain he can’t scrape off? His siblings can’t murder someone in cold blood. They still believe in <em> fair fights</em>, in <em> good guys </em> and <em> bad guys</em>.</p><p>Five is a bad guy through and through, with wings of blood and hands of ice; a weapon crafted by Reginald Hargreeves, tempered by the apocalypse, and honed by the Commission.</p><p>He can’t be saved.</p><p>Luther has to look away.</p><p>Allison, predictably, won’t let it go. “Five, you’re in no condition to fight. Let us look for her.”</p><p>Five scoffs. “Like I could trust any of you overgrown children to take care of her.”</p><p>“If you leave,” Klaus says suddenly, “we’ll just follow you.”</p><p>“I’m not your babysitter,” Five says. “I don’t care what you do.”</p><p>He hopes they don’t call his bluff.</p><p>Diego smirks. “Great. When do we leave?”</p><p>Luther sits up straighter. “We’d be able to find her faster if we split up. In groups, I mean.”</p><p>Five pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to sound reasonably calm when he speaks. “This isn’t a <em> fucking game</em>. Evelynn isn’t messing around.”</p><p>“What makes you think we’re not taking this seriously?” Allison asks, sounding affronted. “I think splitting up is a great idea. We can’t just sit in this house forever, waiting for her to make the first move.”</p><p>“I <em> know</em>,” Five says through gritted teeth, “which is why I’m going to -”</p><p>“I call being Five’s partner,” Klaus says, raising his hand.</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Five and Diego say at the same time.</p><p>“Allison and I will go with Klaus,” Luther says. “We can check out the warehouse you guys were at.”</p><p>“Five, Vanya and I will head to Blackout,” Diego says. “There might still be police there we can talk to.”</p><p>Luther stands, his demeanor suddenly confident and comfortable as he falls back into the role assigned to him at birth. “Okay. We meet back here in one hour.”</p><p>The Diego Five knew would have bristled and said something acidic and condescending.</p><p>This Diego nods curtly.</p><p>It feels like something is slipping out of Five’s grasp; like a solid object has started melting beneath his tight grip. “I haven’t agreed to any of this,” he snarls, low.</p><p>Allison looks at him - is that <em> pity </em> in her gaze? - and says simply, “We know.”</p><p>Then it’s just Five, Vanya, and Diego in the house.</p><p>“Five,” Vanya says gently, “they’re going to be okay. You don’t have to worry.”</p><p>“I’m <em> not </em> worried,” Five snaps, realizing too late that his hands are clenched into fists at his sides. He forces them to relax. “I’m annoyed.”</p><p>Diego snorts. “Right.”</p><p>“This could be an easy job,” Five hisses. “But now you’re muddling it. Involving you all introduces too many variables.”</p><p>“Five, you’re shivering,” Vanya observes.</p><p>He hasn’t been warm since the warehouse, but that’s hardly worth mentioning.</p><p>Vanya stands. “I’ll make a pot of coffee before we go. You guys want any?”</p><p>It’ll only be wasting more time, but Five really should eat something besides that granola bar he never even finished. “Yes,” he says.</p><p>As Vanya exits the room, Diego crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you know why I didn’t want Klaus going with you?”</p><p>Five sighs. “No, but I am <em> dying </em> for you to tell me.”</p><p>Diego scowls. “It’s because I needed to be in whatever group you were in. I mean, the other guys mean well and all, but they didn’t see what I saw. Not even Klaus.” Diego pauses. “Five, when I was in your head, I met Dolores. I was there when she died.”</p><p>Five’s body stiffens. It takes a conscious, monumental effort to not let his expression change. “So?” he says. The word is sharper than he intended it to be.</p><p>Diego exhales, frustration creasing his face. “<em>So</em>, someone you cared about is gone now. Have you even had time to grieve?”</p><p>“She wasn’t real.”</p><p> Five can’t believe he uttered those words. They spilled past his lips before he could catch them. But, the thing is, he knew. He’s always known. </p><p>It was just . . . easier. To pretend he didn’t.</p><p>The scowl is back on Diego’s face. “She was real to you.”</p><p>Five feels like laughing, even though nothing is funny. Or maybe it’s all funny. “How can I mourn something that never existed? How can something that was never alive <em> die</em>?”</p><p>“You can deny it until you’re blue in the face, Five, but you’re <em> hurting</em>, and I can tell.” Diego spreads his hands. “She was with you for how long?”</p><p>A lifetime.</p><p>“Sure, she was a mannequin, and that’s kind of weird, but that doesn’t mean she meant less to you. You were alone.”</p><p>He remembers ash drifting down like snow. He remembers fire. He remembers the bodies. </p><p>But most of all, he remembers being completely and utterly alone.</p><p>“You -” Five says, but he can feel his voice hitch, so he swallows and tries again. “Everyone was dead. Everything was dead. Nothing survived except her.” He saw her hand sticking above the rubble of a department store, and he was so tired of seeing dead bodies by then. He almost walked away. He started to. But he turned back, because the arm was sticking straight up in the air, like its owner was begging for help, pleading for a second chance. “She was like me - intact by pure chance. And she was all I had.” He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. Salt stings the backs of his eyelids. “She was all I had,” he repeats softly.</p><p>“Oh, wow,” a feminine voice murmurs. “I almost feel <em> bad </em> for killing her now.”</p><p>Five rips his hands away from his face and snaps his head to the side. </p><p>Evelynn, seated on the edge of the couch, smiles and waves at him. “Miss me?”</p><p>“Five?” Diego says. “What are you looking at?”</p><p>Shit. Five tries clenching his right hand into a fist, but Evelynn remains. </p><p>“Uh oh,” Evelynn says, laughter edging her voice. “You’re hallucinating again, Five. But who’s the illusion? Me or Diego?”</p><p>Five tries gripping his right hand with his left one, but the gauze is too thick for the hold to be very painful.</p><p> “Five.” Wariness, and maybe a touch of fear, laces Diego’s tone. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“I can be your new and improved Dolores!” Evelynn says brightly. “She was a stick in the mud, anyway. I’m <em> way </em> more entertaining. Although. . . .” Evelynn’s smile turns predatory. “You know what you have to do to get rid of me, don’t you?”</p><p>“Diego,” Five says, “give me a knife.”</p><p>Diego leans away. “Yeah, not with that look in your eyes, old timer.”</p><p>“Don’t be stupid - I’m not going to hurt you.” To be fair, he almost did less than half an hour ago, but he’s not really interested in semantics right now.</p><p>Diego sounds cautious when he speaks. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”</p><p>Evelynn yawns and stretches her arms above her head. “Aww, too bad. I guess that means you’re stuck with me.” She rests her elbow on the arm of the couch and stares - a little too intently - at an oblivious Diego. “At least your brother’s hot.”</p><p>Five blinks to the kitchen. Evelynn is already perched on the table, her legs swinging underneath her. She pouts. “Hey, that’s not fair. I can’t see him from in here.”</p><p>It takes Five a moment, but he finds the drawer full of kitchen knives and pulls the sharpest one he can find out. </p><p>“Five,” Evelynn says casually, “what will you do if this doesn’t work?”</p><p>Figment of his imagination or not, Five won’t give her the satisfaction of a response.</p><p>Evelynn’s legs stop moving. “What will you do <em> when </em> this stops working?” A slow smile draws her lips upward. “You know as well as I do that this won’t work forever.”</p><p>“Five?”</p><p>Five turns his head to see Vanya standing near the coffee machine, a mug in her hand.</p><p>“Vanya,” Five says calmly, “don’t watch.” He rests his bandaged hand on the counter and raises the knife above it.</p><p>“In front of your sister?” Evelynn tuts, shaking her head. “Not your best plan.”</p><p>Five brings the knife down.</p><p>Several things happen at once: Vanya emits a noise somewhere between a gasp and a scream, her mug smashes onto the tile floor, and something blunt slams into Five’s fingers.</p><p>Five hisses in pain, automatically dropping the knife, which skitters harmlessly across the counter. At Five’s feet lies one of Diego’s knives.</p><p>“What the <em> fuck </em> are you <em> doing</em>?” Diego bellows from the entrance to the kitchen.</p><p>“Did you throw one of your knives at me?” Five says. It must have been the hilt of the knife that connected with Five’s fingers.</p><p>“That is <em> so </em> not the issue right now!” Diego says. “I just watched you try to <em> stab yourself</em>!”</p><p>“Told you,” Evelynn mutters, examining her fingernails.</p><p>Five forces himself to look away from her. “You wouldn’t understand,” he says to Diego, grabbing the knife again.</p><p>He’s not <em> crazy</em>.</p><p>He’s trying to <em> keep </em> himself from going crazy.</p><p>“Five, <em> don’t</em>,” Vanya says, breathless, her eyes wide. She reaches for him.</p><p>He blinks to the living room. He knows exactly what to hit and how deep to go to avoid bleeding out or losing his hand entirely - he’s not looking for long-term damage, obviously. Do they not think he knows what he’s doing?</p><p>Evelynn sighs loudly. She’s back on the couch. “I’m getting bored. Either do it or don’t.” She grins wickedly. “It’s kind of a win-win for me.”</p><p>A warm hand closes around Five’s wrist. </p><p>Five snaps his head up. When did Diego get here?</p><p>“Five,” Diego says, “you’re scaring me.”</p><p>Five’s lips curl back in a sneer. “Then stop <em> watching</em>.” He glances at the couch, then freezes.</p><p>Evelynn is gone.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>Five shakes his hand out of Diego’s grip and tosses the kitchen knife onto the couch.</p><p>Diego raises an eyebrow. “So . . . does that mean you’re done trying to impale yourself?”</p><p>“Don’t need to right now,” Five says dismissively.</p><p>“Right, that makes perfect sense, of course,” Diego says, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Diego?” Vanya’s voice drifts from the kitchen. “Tell me you stopped him. Tell me he’s okay.”</p><p>“I stopped him,” Diego calls back. “And he’s . . . I don’t know, as okay as he normally is?”</p><p>Vanya pokes her head into the living room, heaving a sigh of relief when she sees the two of them.</p><p>“Would you like to explain yourself?” Diego says, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p>Five frowns. “Not really, no.”</p><p>“Allow me to rephrase that for him,” Vanya says, stepping fully into the living room from the kitchen. “Explain yourself right no-”</p><p>Several things happen at once: Five hears the distant gunshot of a sniper rifle, the window to the living room shatters, and Vanya crashes to the floor, a bullet hole oozing blood from her temple.</p><p>“<em>Vanya</em>!” Diego screams.</p><p>Five knows this can’t be a hallucination, because for once, he isn’t cold.</p><p>“Five, get down!” Diego says, clutching Five’s arm.</p><p>But Five is too busy dredging energy from his body, dragging it from his veins and pooling it around his hands in the form of blue light.</p><p><em> “Seconds, not decades,” </em> Reginald Hargreeves said, and <em> fuck </em> does Five hate him so much.</p><p>He inhales, looking at Vanya’s wide-eyed, cold stare.</p><p>He exhales, looking at Vanya poke her head into the living room.</p><p>His vision swims, and he almost falls to his knees. The half of that granola bar wasn’t enough - going back in time like this requires massive amounts of energy. His original plan - in the split second he had to come up with it - was to blink to where he believed the sniper was positioned and kill him. </p><p>Blinking, clearly, is not an option for Five right now.</p><p>“Five, what just happened?” Diego says, his eyes wide as he stares at Vanya.</p><p>It takes Five a second to realize that Diego’s hand is still wrapped around Five’s arm, the way it was before Five went back in time. </p><p>So, he can bring other people when he time travels in incremental intervals. It’s useful information, but it explains why he feels even more exhausted than the last time he did it.</p><p>He also has time to explain exactly none of it to Diego.</p><p>“Get down,” Five says to Vanya.</p><p>Vanya’s eyebrows draw together. “What’s wrong? Five, you look terrible.”</p><p>The room seems to spin, and it’s only Diego’s hand on his arm that keeps Five from tipping over. “Five?” Diego says urgently. The vigilante can’t seem to decide where to focus his attention: on the sister he just watched die, or the brother who probably looks like he’s currently dying.</p><p>“Diego, he does <em> not </em> look okay,” Vanya says, moving to step into the living room.</p><p>“<em>Don’t. Move</em>,” Five barks.</p><p>Vanya hesitates. “What’s going on?” she says, anxiety twisting around her words.</p><p>“Lay down,” Five tells her. He feels like he’s going to throw up. “Flat on your belly, and whatever you do, <em> stay away from the windows</em>.”</p><p>Vanya does as he says, lowering herself to the ground. “Would you please tell me what’s going on?”</p><p>“Sniper,” Five says curtly. “At least one, maybe more.”</p><p>“How do you know?” she asks.</p><p>Five opens his mouth to answer her. Instead, he loses the battle with his stomach and vomits, dropping to his knees. There’s a coppery tang on his tongue and dark liquid streaking the stomach acid on the floor.</p><p>“Diego, <em> what’s wrong with him</em>?” Vanya sounds close to hysterical.</p><p>The floor trembles. Five can hear the silverware clattering in the kitchen.</p><p>“Diego,” Five says. He feels like his words are slurring, and based on the look Diego is giving him, they are. “Keep her calm.”</p><p>“Keep <em> her </em> calm?” Diego, Five realizes belatedly, <em> is </em> hysterical. “Five, she <em> died</em>! I’m pretty sure <em> I’m </em> the one freaking out right now!”</p><p>“Well, <em> your </em> tantrums don’t end the world, do they?” Five snaps. His head is pounding, and the taste of blood in his mouth isn’t doing any favors for his unsettled stomach.</p><p>Diego ignores him. “And you look like you’re dying!”</p><p>“Did you just say he’s <em> dying</em>?” Vanya screeches. The tremors grow more violent, until even the walls are shaking.</p><p>“Diego, help her!” Five commands.</p><p>Diego curses, then slides to his belly and scoots toward Vanya. “Vanya, you have to relax!”</p><p>Five rests his forehead on the floor, just for a moment. He’s freezing again. </p><p>“Quite the pickle you’re in,” Evelynn muses from beside Five.</p><p>“I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” Five snarls before he can stop himself.</p><p>Evelynn shrugs. “I’m just saying. You know, if you hadn’t time traveled, you’d have enough energy to save at least one of them.” She giggles. “But now you’re all dead!”</p><p>Five can’t hear what Diego is saying, but the mini earthquake appears to be subsiding.</p><p>Just in time for a hail of gunfire to burst above their heads.</p><p>Bullets rip through the walls and zip through the air. One flies perilously close to Five’s ear before disappearing into the couch in a cloud of stuffing. Five presses his face closer to the floor and sees Diego and Vanya both try to hunker down even further.</p><p>It’s definitely a machine gun of some kind, but Five preferred handguns and rifles while on a job, so he’s unable to place the specific type of firearm. Regardless, it’s extremely loud, and he knows the exact moment Vanya latches on to the sound, because it’s when the tremors return with a vengeance.</p><p>“Vanya!” Five barely hears Diego’s voice over the gunshots. Vanya’s eyes are clenched shut, her hands bunched into fists. </p><p>But it’s too late, and all Five can do is brace for impact as the academy caves in on itself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Dust and Gold," by Arrows to Athens</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. I Reserve My Right to Feel Uncomfortable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yikes! I thought the last chapter took me forever, but boy was this one hard to write. Sorry!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>I Reserve My Right to Feel Uncomfortable</h3><p>Five has exactly one second to process what looks like a blue shockwave headed toward him before it flings him and the falling debris back. He wheels through the air like a ragdoll, recalling this sensation two weeks ago, when Vanya forced them back in the theater, and one week ago, when Luther bodily hoisted him up and threw over the banister. Vanya must be trying to shield them from the bulk of the dama-</p><p>Something collides heavily with Five’s head. His vision darkens, only for a second, but when he blinks color back into the world, he’s lying on the ground, broken mortar and stone haphazardly strewn around him. He immediately tries to sit up, because he has to look for . . . something. Something important, he knows, but he can’t think past the pounding in his head. It’s on the tip of his tongue. </p><p>“A way to stop the apocalypse?” Evelynn suggests.</p><p>No. That’s not it, because he’s already done that, hasn’t he?</p><p>Evelynn shrugs. “Doesn’t matter much anymore. You can’t even stand up. You’re stuck.” She sounds delighted. “You’re <em> dead</em>.”</p><p>The last time he was stuck, fire crackled and smoke bloomed and the stench of death, of burned flesh, hung low in the air. The last time he was stuck he was stuck for years. The last time he was stuck he had Dolores.</p><p><em> Diego. Vanya. </em> He remembers.</p><p>“They’re probably dead,” Evelynn says.</p><p>“I survived,” he argues.</p><p>Evelynn snorts. “You got lucky. Just like when the apocalypse destroyed everything except you. Just like when the Handler’s bullets didn’t kill you right away. One day your luck is going to run out.”</p><p>Five wants to laugh. “I wish it would.”</p><p>He’s not sure how long he lies there, fading in and out of consciousness, listening to the slow beat of his heart echo in his head, but the pain in his body never abates, and Evelynn never leaves.</p><p>“I wonder if they screamed your name when they died,” Evelynn says. “What do you think?”</p><p>“Go away,” Five mutters into the dirt.</p><p>“‘Go away’?” Evelynn says, sounding amused. Her voice is louder than it’s been for however long he’s laid here. “But I just got here!”</p><p>Five lifts his head and squints at the figure kneeling beside him.</p><p>Evelynn’s face breaks out into a wide smile when she notices Five’s gaze. “You’re not looking too good, hon - is something the matter?” She reaches her hand forward and brushes the hair from Five’s forehead.</p><p>“Don’t <em> touch </em> him,” someone snarls. “You said you just wanted me.”</p><p>Evelynn laughs, turning her head to look at whoever spoke. “No - I said I wanted to break you.” Her eyes find Five again. “And I know just how to do that.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Klaus looks at the crumbled heap of bricks that once was the academy and thinks, <em> Serves the old man right for being such a dick. </em> Then he thinks, <em> Oh, shit, that was where I slept. </em></p><p>“Oh, no,” Luther says. “Dad’s gonna be -” he stops abruptly, probably embarrassed. If Klaus were a better man, he would let that slide by without comment.</p><p>He says, “Dead-er than he already is?”</p><p>Allison says, voice taut, “Did this happen while they were still here?”</p><p>Klaus shifts a brick aside with his foot, ignoring his creeping sense of dread by saying, “Knowing them, they caused it.”</p><p>Luther’s already begun digging through the debris, flinging pieces of mortar large enough to kill Klaus behind himself. “Vanya? Five? Diego?”</p><p>“Maybe they’re still at Blackout,” Klaus says, but his protest sounds half-hearted even to his own ears.</p><p>“Klaus.” Allison’s voice is quiet. “If they, you know . . . would you be able to see them? Right now?”</p><p>Klaus has a hard time deciphering whether that scenario is more or less appalling because it’s already happened with Ben. “I haven’t seen any of them.” The <em> yet </em> is loud but unspoken.</p><p>“Good!” Allison says. “That’s good.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself, and Klaus would only be a hypocrite if he mentioned that, so he doesn’t.</p><p>“Guys!” Luther shouts. “I found Vanya!”</p><p><em> He sounds happy, </em> Klaus tells himself, <em> which means he’s found her alive, right? </em> </p><p>By the time Klaus and Allison reach Luther, he’s kneeling beside Vanya’s still (but breathing - that’s important) body. Besides the layer of dust coating her form, she looks uninjured. Klaus expected to see her buried under rubble, but it looks like none landed on her. Either somebody moved her out from underneath the ruins, or . . . <em> something else</em>, Klaus thinks lamely.</p><p>“No Diego or Five?” Allison says.</p><p>Luther shakes his head. “And they wouldn’t leave Vanya willingly.”</p><p>“They might,” Klaus says. “If they thought she’d be safer here.”</p><p>Or they didn’t leave willingly at all, he doesn’t say.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Five hurts. Mostly his head, but his whole body is stiff with pain. Maybe he fell asleep in a bad position? He tries rolling onto his other side, which is when he finally understands he’s standing with his arms suspended above his head. </p><p>He blinks heavy eyelids, and fuzzy shapes start to materialize in front of him. One of them is standing, facing the other one and moving its mouth as though it’s talking, although all Five hears is warbled static. The other shape is sitting in a chair and wriggling. It might be talking, too, but Five can’t tell.</p><p>Five shakes his head from side to side, hoping that will dislodge whatever film seems to be blanketing his eyes and ears. His headache immediately worsens, but the burred shapes become a little more defined. The standing figure is a smiling woman. The sitting shape is a not-smiling man.</p><p>Five must have made a noise of some kind, because both people whip their heads toward him at the same time. The woman’s smile widens - the man’s frown deepens. The woman says something, but Five can’t understand her garbled speech. She takes a step toward Five, which causes the man to jerk forward, but he doesn’t move from the chair. The man’s face twists in rage, and the warbled noise grows louder.</p><p>The man is annoying, Five decides, but he prefers the man to the woman, for some reason. The woman begins unbuttoning Five’s jacket. He tries to recoil, but when he jerks his arms, nothing happens besides a dull pain in his wrists. </p><p>The woman waggles a finger at him, then moves on to unbutton Five’s shirt when she’s finished with his jacket. Her grin is the only sharp thing in his foggy vision, making his skin, now bared to the chill air, crawl. He closes his eyes.</p><p>For whatever reason, the tightness in his gut eases if he pretends the man isn’t there.</p><p>Something cold slaps him in the face, wrenching his eyes open and tearing a gasp from his aching throat. The cold drips off his hair and trickles down his neck in icy tendrils.</p><p>The woman is still a muddled shape, but her voice is now gratingly clear and loud. “Can’t have you slipping away just yet. We haven’t had time to play!”</p><p>“Let him go,” the man says. “<em>Please</em>.” And Five could swear he recognizes that voice, but when he squints, all he sees is Diego, which can’t be right, because his brother has never uttered that word in that tone of voice, and he’s never looked at Five the way the man’s looking at him now.</p><p>“You already know I can’t,” the woman says. “This isn’t for him.” She lifts something long and thin into the air, the tip of which glows orange. “My power is spectacular, but nothing beats <em> organic</em>, you know what I mean?”</p><p>“He’s already been through this,” the man says. It sounds like he’s begging, confirming that he can’t be Diego.</p><p>The woman releases an impatient sigh. “What did I just say? I’m not looking for his agony. I want to see <em> yours</em>.” She jabs the object in her hand forward. It meets the skin of Five’s chest with a sizzle that he feels rather than hears because his cry drowns out the sound. After a moment that lasts far too long, the woman peels the rod from Five’s chest. The pain should lessen, he thinks, but the flames biting at his flesh don’t abate as part of his skin is torn from his body.</p><p>“Good, good,” the woman says, sounding pleased. “That’s an excellent start.”</p><p>“Evelynn,” the man says through gritted teeth. “He’s going to <em> die</em>.”</p><p>Five wonders who the man is talking about, but it’s hard to focus too much on anything that isn’t the burning circle of pain in his chest.</p><p>The woman walks back to the man, crouching down in front of him. “Oh, baby,” she says softly, “as long as it happens in front of you, that’s the point.”</p><p>The man matches her volume, although he doesn’t lose any intensity. “I’ll do anything you want if you leave him alone.”</p><p>“<em>This </em> is what I want,” she says. “You, despairing. You, desperate.” She pulls something from the man’s waist, then stands and wanders back toward Five.</p><p>Five is sure he’s been in more pain than this at some point in his life, but he has a hard time remembering when that might have been. His chest is on fire, his throat burns, his thigh stings, his head throbs, his arms ache, and his stomach hasn’t stopped doing flips since he opened his eyes.</p><p>“Are you still awake?” the woman asks.</p><p>“Unfortunately.” Five spits out the word like broken glass.</p><p>The woman claps her hands together. “And he speaks! Your brother never ceases to amaze, Diego.”</p><p>Five frowns. “My name’s not Diego.”</p><p>The woman covers her mouth with one hand and laughs. “That head injury really did a number on you, didn’t it?” She presses her fingers against Five’s temple, awakening a raw sting in his skin. When she draws her hand back, her fingers are painted red. “Hmm - at this point, he might die before I even do anything,” she says.</p><p>“<em>Evelynn</em>,” the man growls.</p><p>“<em>Diego</em>,” the woman mocks. She brandishes whatever she grabbed in front of the man’s face, then turns back to Five. “Listen, Five. I've been in your head. I know what it’s like in there.” She leans forward. “I’d be doing you a favor by killing you, honestly.”</p><p>But Five’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to die.</p><p>“Only pretty sure?” The woman cocks her head to the side. “What about your family?”</p><p>He must have said that out loud. “They barely know me,” he says. He sees the man stiffen out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t think they’ll be too broken up over my death.”</p><p>“That’s adorable!” the woman squeals. “He doesn’t know! He’s going to <em> die </em> not knowing!”</p><p>“Five,” the man says, “are you fucking serious?”</p><p>“Now, now,” the woman says. “You’re not exactly proving your point with that tone.”</p><p>It’s too difficult trying to follow this conversation when colors are melding together and he still can’t distinguish the speakers’ faces, so he allows his weary eyelids to slip downward.</p><p>“Five!” the man barks. “Keep your eyes open!”</p><p>Yeah, the man is definitely annoying, and Five is in no mood to do anything he says.</p><p>Then cold metal tears into his skin, pushing deep into his abdomen, and his eyes snap back open. The woman’s eyes crinkle upward as she smiles. “I’ve decided to let him watch you bleed out,” she whispers to him before twisting the blade in his stomach.</p><p>Five thinks he makes a sound, although he can’t be sure, because the man has started yelling obscenities. The woman slowly tugs the knife out of Five’s side. Liquid spills down his skin, drenching his pants. It should be hot, Five knows, but it feels ice-cold. </p><p>The woman steps back, as though admiring him, but her head is turned toward the man, who’s thrashing in his chair. “You’re just going to hurt yourself,” she points out, but Five could swear she’s smiling.</p><p>“I’m going to <em> kill </em> you,” the man spits.</p><p>“Sorry, but you’ve already tried that,” the woman says. She lifts her hand to Five’s hip, as though she’s about to lead him in a waltz, and digs her fingernails into his wound.</p><p>A groan escapes Five’s clenched teeth.</p><p>“Tell me to stop,” she breathes into his ear. “I need him to hear you beg.” Her nails press deeper.</p><p>Five’s already altered vision darkens around the edges. Someone is yelling, but Five is unable to distinguish the words.</p><p>He thought he’d come to terms with his mortality - he has saved the world no less than two times now. He succeeded in the one goal he created for himself, the one goal that built itself around his entire identity. He’s walked this earth - or, rather, an earth - for fifty-eight years. But now he stands face to face with his own death, and he realizes with a lurch in his chest that he’s not ready to let go of the family he just got back. “I don’t -” he forces past his bruised throat - “want to die.”</p><p>The woman releases a soft, contented sigh. “The only beautiful death is the one that isn’t wanted, Five. It’s unfortunate that you came to that realization minutes before it happens, but -” she caresses his cheek with her thumb - “I’m glad I could help you get there.”</p><p>Five’s vision is tunneling, but he’s just able to make out the figure of the man straining against whatever is holding him to the chair. The man yanks his arm viciously, and suddenly his hand is raised in the air, away from the arm of the chair. His hand fumbles at his waist, and then something glints in the air, headed straight toward the woman.</p><p>A choked, gurgled gasp emits from the woman’s mouth, and her hand drops from Five’s face. She stumbles to her knees, her trembling hands lifting toward her neck. She opens her mouth, perhaps to say something, and only blood drips from her lips.</p><p>It takes Five several blinks to see the hilt of a knife protruding from her throat.</p><p>He isn’t sure how long it takes the woman to stop moving, but he’s still staring at her corpse when the man’s body suddenly obstructs his view. “Oh <em> fuck</em>,” the man is saying as he wraps something that looks suspiciously like part of Five’s shirt around Five’s stomach. “There’s so much <em> blood</em>. You’re like five pounds, how do you even have this much blood in you? You’re so out of it - I don’t know why I’m talking to you right now, I doubt you can hear me, anyway, but you - <em> hey, keep your eyes open</em>!”</p><p>Five hums noncommittally. He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes. He supposes the man is less annoying, now, so he opens them. The man is grappling with something above Five’s head. “I don’t want to die,” Five tells the man. It’s a recent revelation, and he isn’t sure why the man needs to hear it, but the words feel right.</p><p>“You’re not going to,” the man snaps, and he sounds so angry. “So <em> shut up</em>. Actually, no, keep talking. You have to stay awake.”</p><p>The pressure at Five’s wrists disappears. His arms drop to his sides, and his legs instantly crumble beneath him. A warm weight on his chest keeps him from collapsing. Five blinks several times. The weight on his chest is a hand, but it’s a raw scarlet color and slippery with blood. A ring of burned, red flesh encircles the wrist. “Oh, no,” Five says, and his voice sounds distant. “Your hand.” Guilt bubbles up in his stomach.</p><p>The man’s laughter is a short bark that contains no humor. “You did <em> not </em> just say something about my hand when you look like <em> this</em>.”</p><p>“But,” Five says, determined to make the man understand, “I don’t want you to die.”</p><p>“Neither of us are dying, all right? I’m gonna get you out of here, I promise.”</p><p>The man keeps talking, but Five can no longer hear what he’s saying. The darkness at the edge of his vision encroaches forward, and Five doesn’t want it to, but at least he’s warm.</p><p>"<em>Five</em>!" The man sounds terrified.</p><p>At least Five is warm.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Sometimes You're the Hammer, Sometimes You're the Nail," by A Day to Remember</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. My Brother, I'd Follow You In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh my goodness I had no idea where I was going with this chapter - I had three full pages written out and then decided to go in a completely different direction, so I had to start over. I know I've said this a million times before, but thank you thank you thank you for all of your comments. I'm really passionate about writing, and you guys are feeding that passion to disproportionate levels haha.<br/>Additionally, we're nearing the end.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1>
<h3>My Brother, I'd Follow You In</h3>
<p>A man sits on a plastic, uncomfortable chair in the waiting room. He spins a knife in his hand, but the movement is clunky; agitated. His hand is burned and swollen, although he hardly seems like he notices. Wet blood soaks his shirt, stains his arms, and glistens on the blade of the knife. His jaw is clenched as he stares vacantly ahead, the knife in his hand spinning and stopping, spinning and stopping, spinning and stopping.</p>
<p>An older woman seated a few chairs away from him, the caution in her eyes overshadowed by the concern on her face, leans forward. “Are you all right?” she asks.</p>
<p>The knife stills. “Yes.” His voice is flat.</p>
<p>Worry pinches her brow. “But, there’s so much blo-”</p>
<p>“It’s not mine.” The blood-stained knife resumes its spinning.</p>
<p>Stop.</p>
<p>Spin.</p>
<p>Stop.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not much later, four others gather around the man and the blood that isn’t his and the knife that is.</p>
<p>“He’s going to be fine,” the beautiful woman says.</p>
<p>The big man nods emphatically while the small woman curls her arms around herself. “I want to believe that,” she says, her voice dangerously close to breaking.</p>
<p>The man with the knife says nothing.</p>
<p>Neither does the man with the haunted look in his eyes.</p>
<p>The first woman clears her throat. “You should get that looked at,” she says, gesturing at the man’s hand, still spinning the bloodied knife.</p>
<p>“It’s nothing,” he mutters.</p>
<p>She releases a short huff of air but doesn’t push it.</p>
<p>“You’re, um,” the big man says haltingly, “sure she’s dead this time?”</p>
<p>The man with the knife turns eyes too tired to be irate toward the big man. “As sure as I can be,” he says stiffly.</p>
<p>A nurse steps into the waiting room. Five expectant faces shoot toward her, some nervous, others panicked, but all hopeful. </p>
<p>Her face is kind, and her tone is gentle, but her first words are, “I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>The beautiful woman covers her mouth with one hand, her eyes wide and shining. The large man closes his eyes and clenches one fist.</p>
<p>The knife hits the ground with a clatter.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Five stands in the foyer of the academy, although he can’t remember how he got here. In fact, he can’t remember much of anything that happened before he placed his feet on solid wooden planks. Something’s off, wrong, and it isn’t just the strange half-twilight filtering through the windows, or the complete silence and stillness of the building. The house seems bigger. No, not the house - the rooms. The foyer is much wider than it should be, and when he looks into the next room, it seems to stretch on forever. If he squints, he can make out the silhouette of a person in the room that has no end. Whoever it is appears to be far in the distance, but in the next instant, a little girl on a bicycle is pedaling past him.</p>
<p>Five has always been hyper aware of the passage of time, of how much time he wastes on things that don’t involve actively saving the world, but for the life of him, he can’t recall if he’s been standing in the foyer for five seconds or five hours. It’s frustrating and it <em> should </em> be terrifying, but the fear fizzles out before it can fully manifest. Five doesn’t understand that, either, which is even more aggravating, so he reaches out and grabs one of the handlebars of the girl’s bike. “Where am I?”</p>
<p>The little girl sighs, casting a disinterested gaze toward him. “Oh,” she says flatly, “another one.”</p>
<p>The realization hits Five like a slap in the face. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” he says. He doesn’t know how he died, although he’s sure he wasn’t alone, which invokes a . . . pleasant feeling. He was alone for so long. It’s nice to believe he didn’t die that way.</p>
<p>Except . . .</p>
<p>
  <em> “I don’t want to die.” </em>
</p>
<p>Who said that? Was it him?</p>
<p>He should be distraught. But the same eerie calm that extinguished his fear smothers any dismay he might have felt.</p>
<p>“Not completely.”</p>
<p>Five scowls. “What does that mean?” He hates feeling young and stupid when he knows for a fact he is neither of those things.</p>
<p>The girl looks bored. “Your body is dead. Your soul hasn’t caught up yet.”</p>
<p>Five, who’s never truly believed in intangible things like souls and would have certainly never cared even if he had, asks, “Why aren’t I a ghost?” He never would have believed in ghosts, either, if not for his brother. </p>
<p>The girl rolls her eyes. “Ghosts are dead souls. I just told you yours isn’t dead yet.”</p>
<p>“Then what’s this place?”</p>
<p>“It’s where your soul goes to die.” She glances around at the academy’s foyer, mild contempt in her gaze. “Your worldview was pretty limited, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>Five decides to ignore the question, seeing as he doesn’t completely understand it, anyway. “And how long does that take?”</p>
<p>She shrugs. “Forever. One hour. What’s the difference?” Her brow furrows. “Aren’t you going to complain about how unfair this is? Aren’t you going to beg for a second chance?” An almost contemplative look crosses her face. “Come to think of it, neither did he, but he never ran from me like you did.”</p>
<p>“I don’t beg,” Five says. “And I don’t believe in second chances.”</p>
<p>The girl doesn’t quite smirk, her expression still that of overall disinterest, but there’s a knowingness in her eyes. “Except for the ones you create yourself, you mean.”</p>
<p>Five is unused to the sensation of being read so easily. He has nothing to say to her sharp insight, so he seethes in silence.</p>
<p>“Listen.” She flips the kickstand of her bicycle down, as though finally acknowledging this will be a long conversation. “I like you as much as I like your brother - which is to say, not at all.”</p>
<p>“That’s hardly surprising, and I don’t even know which one you mean.”</p>
<p>“So,” she continues, “I’d like you to leave.”</p>
<p>Five frowns. “You want me to . . . stop being dead.”</p>
<p>“Yes.” She cocks her head. “Is that a problem?”</p>
<p>“Disregarding the obvious question of <em> how </em> you think I can do that, what makes you think I’d want to? I’ve lived a long life.”</p>
<p>“Longer than you should have,” she agrees.</p>
<p>“Exactly,” he says, remembering how many times death loomed over his head and how many times he denied it. “So maybe I’m fine being dead.”</p>
<p>
  <em> I don’t want to die. </em>
</p>
<p>The girl’s impassive face never changes. “But you’re not.”</p>
<p>Five remembers a bullet spraying out the side of Vanya’s head, remembers what he forced Allison to leave behind in the sixties, remembers Diego supporting him with a blood-soaked hand, remembers finding Klaus in his bedroom with the stench of war and loss still clinging to his pale skin, and he says, “Maybe I should be.”</p>
<p>The girl purses her lips, no pity in her eyes. “I don’t care, one way or the other. I just want you gone.”</p>
<p>Five spreads his hands. “I fail to see how you think that’s even possible.”</p>
<p>She studies him seriously. “You need motivation,” she decides.</p>
<p>Five grits his teeth. “<em>Motivation </em> has nothing to do with it - I <em> can’t</em>.”</p>
<p>“He was able to.” She climbs off her bicycle and wheels it toward the dining room. She says nothing, as though expecting him to follow her, which would normally be enough of a reason for Five to do the exact opposite. </p>
<p>Five doesn’t <em> follow</em>, and he never will.</p>
<p>He blinks to the dining room ahead of her, but she never even looks in his direction. Instead, she stops in front of the large window and stares into that bleak twilight.</p>
<p>His curiosity wins over his stubbornness, and he joins her at the window.</p>
<p>He was expecting to see the always-pristine, green yard of the academy, as that’s the only view he’s ever seen out this pane of glass, so it takes him a moment to reconcile his brain with his vision. He’s staring into a room with chairs lined up against the walls and an occasional sofa squished between the rows. His siblings are clustered around a somber-looking woman in scrubs, varying degrees of shock plastered on their faces.</p>
<p>Diego’s face is twisted into something barbaric. “If I’d -” he chokes out.</p>
<p>“Don’t do that,” Allison cuts in harshly. “Don’t you dare start doing that.”</p>
<p>Luther looks lost. “But -” he says hopelessly, “you killed her.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, fat lot of good that did,” Diego spits.</p>
<p>Vanya sinks to the floor, one hand clamped over her mouth, the other fisted around the front of her shirt in a white-knuckle grip. The lights above her flicker wildly.</p>
<p>“Everybody relax,” Klaus says, an easy smile on his face. “He’s not dead.”</p>
<p>Allison shoots a look at the nurse, as though worried what she might say, then sighs. “Klaus -”</p>
<p>“No, no, no, listen!” Klaus says. His eyes are bright, almost manic. “He can’t be dead! They’re confused, or something!”</p>
<p>“<em>Klaus</em>,” Diego snarls. “Face it. He’s gone.”</p>
<p>“Then why can’t I see him?” Klaus yells, swinging his arms wide. His voice breaks. “<em>Why can’t I see him</em>?”</p>
<p>Tears spill down Vanya’s cheeks. The plastic covering on the light directly above her fractures.</p>
<p>“Get her out of here,” Luther says in a low voice to Allison, who hastens to usher her sister out of the room.</p>
<p>Five feels like he’s floundering. His siblings are reeling, and they’re reeling over the loss of . . . him?</p>
<p>“Why?” he says out loud, unnerved by what he’s witnessing.</p>
<p>“You’re incredibly dense,” the little girl remarks.</p>
<p>Five has been called plenty of things in his lifetime, but never anything insulting his intelligence. “I’m <em> not</em>,” he instantly snarls.</p>
<p>The girl, still facing the window, shrugs. “A coward, then. Because you’re either too stupid to know why, or too afraid to admit what you already know.”</p>
<p>Five has as much to say about that as he does about the constrictive pain in his chest whenever he sees the devastation ruptured across the faces of his siblings. Because, as much as he’s loath to admit it, he knows she’s right. He never let himself believe what he always feared (no, not feared - <em> wanted</em>) since he ripped his way across the universe to get back to his family.</p>
<p>Because if he had mattered to his siblings, then they would have expected something from him, be that love or affection or his time, and he knows without a doubt that he would have failed them. Failure doesn’t come easily to Five. He will slave over, bleed for, and claw at anything to achieve success. And Five knows this about himself, has known since he was old enough to understand the difference between right and wrong, which is why he always avoided activities he knew he couldn’t excel at. If he couldn’t be the best at it, he wanted no part of it. If he had mattered to his siblings, he’d have been thrust into a role he’d never asked for and appointed to a position that he’s simply not good at. Were he assigned a duty as simple as the leader, he could be content. He can bark orders and come up with sound strategies easily enough. What he <em> can’t </em> do is assuage people’s fears, tend to their needs, or make them feel good. He can’t lend a helpful ear, can’t pretend to care about anything beyond his family’s, and occasionally the world’s, survival. And while he doesn’t always understand people, he knows enough to recognize he doesn’t have what it takes to remain in others’ lives. Not if they care about him.</p>
<p>If he had mattered to his siblings, there would have come a point when he no longer did. Five can continue on knowing he doesn’t have a place in their world, their tapestry. He’s not sure he could continue if he gained that place and then lost it.</p>
<p>But . . . he’s been with them for three weeks now, and they’re still genuinely distraught over his death - despite knowing who he is. Despite Five trying to separate himself from them.</p>
<p>“Well?” the little girl demands. “Are you going to leave now?”</p>
<p>Five wonders, more than idly, if it’s possible to strangle a god. He tears his eyes away from a sobbing Vanya and a panicking Klaus to look at the girl. “Even if I wanted to, <em> I can’t</em>.”</p>
<p>Her eyes flare in triumph. “So you <em> do </em>want to live.”</p>
<p>Five says nothing.</p>
<p>“We’re on the same page, then.” She straddles her bicycle. “I can’t make you leave until you want to - otherwise, you’ll come right back. That’s why I couldn’t get your brother out of here right away. He needed motivation, too.”</p>
<p>“So, what?” Five says, crossing his arms. “I’m immortal because you’ll always kick me out of here?”</p>
<p>“No,” she says, her voice bland. “You’ll die, and soon. And when that happens, even I won’t be able to keep you out.” Her inflection never changes, but Five can’t help the chill that drags its nails down his spine at those words.</p>
<p>“But until then,” she continues, as though unaware of the ominous atmosphere now residing over Five, “I don’t want you, so -” she pushes one foot off the ground, balancing the bicycle’s tires on the hardwood floor of the academy - “goodbye.”</p>
<p>Then Five awakens to the sound of people shouting and machines beeping wildly. The pain is hot enough to steal his breath away, nearly crushing enough to make him wish he’d stayed dead, and before he can open his eyes, he passes out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Iscariot," by The Vassar Devils (original by Walk the Moon)</p>
<p>I took some (lots of) liberties with The Girl on the Bicycle, because I don't totally understand her or her role in the show, but I hope my interpretation wasn't horribly inaccurate lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. I've Come Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Here, Beneath My Lungs</h1><h3>I've Come Home</h3><p>The next time Five wakes up, there’s much less pain. Or maybe it’s there, but it’s dulled, as though it’s been buried underneath several layers of thick comforters. Or bandages, he thinks as he looks at his hand, which is wrapped in clean, white gauze. He’s laying in a bed, wearing a thin, blue nightgown, and after several long minutes of consideration, he decides he’s in a hospital. He turns his head to the side, but the simple action takes years, because his body is moving as fast as his brain. “I’m drugged,” he says out loud to the only other person in the room.</p><p>Diego doesn’t stir from his seat and continues snoring.</p><p>Five frowns. Diego can’t be asleep. Five has things to say, even if he can’t quite remember what those things are. “Wake up,” he commands, but Diego ignores him. Typical - Diego’s always had a problem with authority. </p><p>Then Five spots a plastic cup half-full of water on the table next to him.</p><p>Seconds later, Diego splutters his way back to consciousness. “What the hell,” he coughs.</p><p>Five has remembered one of the things. “Klaus died,” he tells Diego.</p><p>Diego freezes in the middle of wiping water from his face, then he inexplicably relaxes. “No, he didn’t. Those were all hallucinations, remember? He’s getting breakfast with the others now.”</p><p>“I know he’s not <em> dead</em>,” Five says, annoyed. “I said he <em> died</em>.”</p><p>Understanding is starting to dawn in Diego’s eyes, but not the kind Five was looking for. “Right, sure,” he says placatingly, and Five has a sudden urge to bite him, but he’s too far away.</p><p>Five slumps back against the pillows. “You’re not <em> listening</em>,” he grumbles.</p><p>“Sure I am,” Diego says, leaning forward. “Klaus died, but he’s not dead. Am I missing anything?”</p><p>Five is positive Diego is making fun of him, but he can’t tell, and Five doesn’t like not being able to tell. “No,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, wincing as the movement pulls something in his side.</p><p>Oh, yeah. He died, and he still can’t remember what killed him. He starts wrestling with his gown, trying to hoist it up.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Diego says, sounding amused.</p><p>Five squints at him. “I want to see what killed me.”</p><p>A shadow passes over Diego’s face, and his mouth twists in a grimace. “You don’t remember?”</p><p>Five scowls. “Obviously not.”</p><p>Diego pulls one of his knives out and tosses it onto Five’s lap. Its blade is clouded with dried blood. “That’s what almost killed you.”</p><p>Five frowns. “Why’d you stab me?”</p><p>Diego rolls his eyes. “<em>I </em> didn’t stab you, idiot. Evelynn did.”</p><p>That faintly rings a bell. Five bobs his head in acknowledgement. “That makes sense. She’s mean.”</p><p>Diego snorts. “Yeah, ‘mean.’”</p><p>“I think you mean <em> creative</em>,” a feminine voice says. Five tenses.</p><p>“What?” Diego says, voice sharp.</p><p>Evelynn lounges on a chair next to Five’s bed, a sly smile on her lips and a familiar, bloodied blade between her fingers. Dark blood stains her hands all the way up to the wrists and mats her long hair into tangled clumps. Her eyes are bright and her cheeks are flushed, as though whoever’s blood it was only splashed onto her recently. </p><p>Five says morosely, “She’s back.”</p><p>Diego glances around the room. “Who?”</p><p>Evelynn giggles. “Is this sight a little too familiar, Five?” She cups her face with her hands, heedless of the blood she smears onto her chin, and drops her voice to a whisper. “Is it a little too much like looking in a mirror?”</p><p>Five squeezes his eyes shut. “Go away.”</p><p>He hears Diego slide his chair closer to the bed. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>“Neither am I,” Evelynn says, laughter edging her voice.</p><p>He <em> died</em>. Death should have been enough to fix his mind.</p><p>“Is Evelynn dead?” Five asks quietly, his eyes still shut.</p><p>“Yes.” Diego’s voice is dark. “I killed her.”</p><p>Five cracks his eyes open. She’s staring directly at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “So . . . she’s not in that chair right now.”</p><p>Diego turns his head and stares at her. She beams at his appraisal. “There’s no one there,” he affirms. He looks back at Five. “Whatever you’re seeing,” he says, oddly kind, “it isn’t real.”</p><p>“Oh, but Five!” Evelynn says, grinning. “I’m as real as Dolores was.”</p><p>“Ah,” Five says.</p><p>Diego sees him still staring at the chair Evelynn occupies, and he slams his hand on the bed. “Five, look at me!”</p><p>Five obliges him.</p><p>“I’m here - Evelynn isn’t,” he says.</p><p>Evelynn rises to her feet, which are bare and splattered with blood. She looms over Five, her clumped hair brushing against his shoulders, and he has to fight the urge to shrink back. “What Diego doesn’t understand,” she murmurs softly, “is that he’s there, but I’m <em> here</em>.” She rests her cold, blood-stained fingers against Five’s temple.</p><p>Diego must have noticed that he no longer held Five’s attention, because he grabs Five’s good hand and squeezes it. “This? This right here is real.” </p><p>As soon as Diego’s warm hand makes contact with Five’s skin, Evelynn vanishes.</p><p>“Ah,” Five says again. Evelynn could fabricate pain, could even fabricate his siblings, but she had never been able to replicate warmth.</p><p>Suddenly exhausted, he bends his head forward, pressing Diego’s knuckles against his forehead. “Fuck.” </p><p>It strikes him then that perhaps Dolores was only supposed to exist until he found his family again. The thought is nearly blasphemous, but he wonders if it isn’t correct. He wonders if Dolores knew that. “I think she did,” he says.</p><p>“What?” Diego says, but Five is too tired to explain. He sits up and releases Diego’s hand. </p><p>“I’m okay,” Five says, and he is. </p><p>A thought suddenly strikes him. “Are <em> you </em> okay?”</p><p>Diego blinks. For the first time, Five notes the heavy bags etched beneath Diego’s eyes, the lines of exhaustion carved into his face. Diego’s other hand is wrapped in bandages. “Yeah, of course I’m okay,” Diego says.</p><p>Five frowns. He still can’t remember everything about his death, but he knows Evelynn was there, and he’s vaguely certain Diego was, too. “Did Evelynn do anything to you?”</p><p>“You mean put a hot poker in my chest or stab me in the abdomen?” Diego says dryly. “No, I’m afraid I missed out on that.” He’s trying to keep his tone light, Five can tell.</p><p>“She did something,” Five says. “You’re not telling me everything.”</p><p>Diego scowls. “She didn’t do anything to <em> me</em>, Five. And that’s -” he roughly scrubs a hand over his face, then sighs and looks away. “That’s the problem. I could live with myself if she’d tortured me or, hell, even used her powers on me, but I think she knew that, which is why she didn’t.” His mouth twists, and his next words are steeped in bitterness. “We’re both kidnapped by a lunatic, but I get out scot-free while you bleed out. What a <em> hero </em> I am.”</p><p><em> But, your hand, </em> Five almost says until he recalls a fuzzy shape ripping its arm out of its restraints.</p><p><em> Oh, </em> he realizes. Diego hurt himself trying to get to Five.</p><p>Five’s chest aches with an emotion he can’t name, even if his mind weren’t swimming in chemicals.</p><p>But then he remembers another thing and knows what to say. He clumsily reaches forward and pats Diego’s hand. “I’m sorry I died,” he says sincerely.</p><p>Diego laughs, but it sounds forced. “You didn’t die. And I don’t know why you’re apologizing. If anything, I should be apologizing. I was there when she -” he stops abruptly.</p><p>“But I didn’t know it would make you sad,” Five says. He’s never had to consider what his death might mean for anyone other than himself. “I made you all sad, because I’m important to you.”</p><p>Diego smirks and leans back in his chair, some of that earlier pain washing out of his face. “I wouldn’t go that far.”</p><p>Five shakes his head. “Nope, I figured it out. I matter to you.”</p><p>Diego tips his head toward the ceiling and huffs out a breath. “About time, dumbass.”</p><p>The door flies open. “Diegoooo,” Klaus sings, flaunting a grease-stained paper bag in the air, “I brought you breakf-”</p><p>The bag drops to the floor, and the next thing Five knows, he’s enveloped by two lanky arms that grip him tight.</p><p>Five doesn’t return the embrace, but he’s too warm to bother pushing Klaus away, so he rests his forehead against the medium’s chest. “Hi, Klaus,” he says into the man’s flowery shirt.</p><p>Klaus’s laugh sounds suspiciously like a sob, but it’s genuine. “Hi, Five.”</p><p>Five hears the quick shuffling of feet in the hallway. When he lifts his face from Klaus’s shirt, Vanya, Allison, and Luther are staring at him with undisguised joy on their faces.</p><p>Exactly three hugs later, his siblings are seated in chairs they’ve crowded around his bed. Five can feel his eyelids drooping and his already foggy mind drifting, but he forces himself to focus. They’re trying to talk to him, and they look pretty serious.</p><p>“So, Five,” Luther says. He glances at Allison, as though asking permission to continue, and she nods her head slightly. “We, uh, have an idea.”</p><p>Allison jumps in. “Originally, we were just going to rebuild the academy, but we realized we sort of . . . hate it?” She chuckles, the sound only mildly acidic. “I mean, I don’t remember a lot of great things happening in there, and I think most of us can agree.”</p><p>“So,” Vanya says, the nervousness on her face warring with the excited gleam in her eyes, “we decided to build you your own place.”</p><p>Five feels miles behind the conversation. “Where?”</p><p>“On the lot the academy used to be on,” Diego says.</p><p>Klaus laughs. “Dad insured the shit out of the building, so, really, we should have done this years ago.”</p><p>“Of course,” Allison says in a rush, as though afraid of what Five will say if she slows down, “we’ll let you choose the layout and everything if you want, but if this isn’t something you’re interested in, we can totally do something different -”</p><p>Five’s chest is starting to ache with that warmth again. “No,” he says. “It’s . . . nice.”</p><p>Allison’s face breaks into a relieved smile.</p><p>“Yay!” Klaus cheers. “Roommates!”</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Luther says. “We forgot to mention - you’ll be living with Klaus.” He drops his voice to an apologetic whisper. “Sorry.”</p><p>“But I’m only letting him decorate <em> his </em> half of the house,” Allison says. “So you can decorate however you want on your side.”</p><p>Five’s not entirely sure he understands the concept of decorating, but it sounds like a chore not worth his time. His disdain must show on his face, because Allison adds, “Which I’ll be helping you with.”</p><p>“But it’s gonna be a while before the house is built,” Diego says, “so until then, the two of you will be flip-flopping between our apartments.”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” Klaus says to Diego. “I can’t wait to see what your bachelor pad looks like. If there’s no Batcave, I’m out, though.”</p><p>Diego scowls and fires back with some wiseass remark, Vanya grins, and Five wonders why he feels like crying.</p><p>Maybe, Five thinks, he never stopped belonging to his dysfunctional family. Maybe he only stopped believing he had.</p><p>Maybe it’s time to start living like he does.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Welcome Home, Son," by Radical Face</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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